m 




Glass ^ 

Book_ 



/ 



Witm JWw*tt*fete ; 



CONTAINING 



THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA; 

OR, 

CANTREV Y GWAELOD, 

% $oem, in tyttt Santos; 

With various other Poems. 



BY T. JEFFERY LLEWELYN PRICHARD. 



Heard ye the voice of the muse of the mountain ? 
The lays of the land of the mineral fountain ? 
Hear ye the songs of the Welsh mountaineer, 
The son of old Cymry — held filially dear ; 
Oh list to the nlinstrel who sweeps the Welsh telyn, 
Hear ! hear ye the harpings of 

JEFFERY LLEWELYN. 



LONDON : 



PUBLISHED BY MESSRS. JOHN AND H. L. HUNT, TAVISTOCK-STREET, 
CO VENT-GARDEN. 



1825. 












WALES: 

Printed by John Cox, Great Dark-Gate Street, 
Aberystwyth. 



TO THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, 

THOMAS, 
LORD BISHOP OF ST. DAVID'S 



" I mean not here 
To wound with flattery, 'tis a villain's art, 
And suits not witil the frankness of my heart.' 



My Reverend Lord, 

When the poet Churchill inscribed a volume 
of his poems to the Bishop of Gloucester, the manly 
plainness of his dedication, equally removed from 
servility as untruth, was no less remarkable than the 
liber dity of that amiable prelate, who was pleased 
with an address so singularly new in the annals of 
dedications. 

With great limitation of my own pretentions, I feel 
myself, as to motives, similarly situated while ad- 
dressing your lordship, which I cannot do more aptly 
than in the words of that eminent poet. 

" 'Tis not thy name, though that indeed is great; — 
'Tis not the tinsel trumpery of state ; 
State is a farce ; names are but empty things ; 
Degrees are bought ; and by mistaken kings 
Titles are oft misplaced ; mitres, which shine 
So bright in other eyes, are dull in mine, 
Unless set off with virtue. 



IV DEDICATION. 

No, 'tis thy inward man ! thy proper worth, 

Thy right just estimation here on earth; 

Thy life and doctrine uniformly joined, 

And flowing from that wholesome source, thy mind: — 

Thy known contempt of persecution's rod, 

Thy charity for man — thy love of God." 

But candour compels me to observe, it was neither 
your lordship's well known amiability, nor eminent 
services rendered to the Church in Wales, that induced 
me to seek the powerful support of your lordship's 
name to my book. But the strong feelings of nationa- 
lity, so peculiar to a Welshman, towards a prelate 
warmly endeared to my countrymen, for the protection 
yielded to their dearest, and most valued rights — the 
cultivation of their native language ; and enforcing 
its usage in the Church service : an arrangement no 
less wise in its tendency of minorating seisms, than 
generous in an Englishman void of the prejudices of 
some of his countrymen, who, had they the like " gi- 
ant's strength, would use it like a giant," to crush our 
only vestige of the olden day, the tongue of our fore- 
fathers, the language of the brave and free ! in which 
our heroes spoke, our legislators wrote, and poets 
sung. A language, venerable for its antiquity, no 
less flexible than powerfully impressive, that in spite 
of all the elements combined for its destruction, has 
survived the wreck of ages ; bespeaking, in the glow 
of its spirit, its pristine emanation from the Land 
of the SUN. 

I have the honour to be, 

My Reverend Lord, 

Your lordship's most devoted humble servant, 

T. J. LLEWELYN PRICHARD, 



PREFACE, 



Since I commenced the most difficult part of 
my undertaking" — that of travelling to seek 
subscribers to this work — in compliment to 
the taste of my own country people, to whom I 
have been estranged since boyhood, the nature 
of the publication has been almost thoroughly 
changed ; that is to say, the " Rural Poems/' 
and many of those on fictitious subjects, pro- 
mised in the first prospectus, are withdrawn, 
to make room for such as have historical 
foundations ; for the present race of Britons, 
so far laudably adhere to the maxim of their 
forefathers, ec Y gwir yn erbyn y hyd/'* to the 
rejection of fiction in the effusions of the muse. 
The poem of the Ci Noble of Nature/' is the 
principal infringement here on that rule. 
Those who are devoted admirers of the cold, 
monotonous, methodical, starch English School 
of Poetry, that prevailed at the period sadly 

* The truth against the world. 



VI PREFACE. 



miscalled the Augustan age, will doubtlessly 
contemn the measures, style, and manner of 
the following poems ; especially, when the 
author adds to the offence, by avowing his 
most decided and hearty admiration of the 
living race of writers, and prefers the poets of 
the present day, to any that have graced the 
country, since the setting of the glorious star 
of Tudor — the great Shakspearean age ! to 
which, with all deference to those who think 
otherwise, I conceive this to be the legitimate 
successor. It will be discovered in course of 
the first poem, that alliteration, which is so 
prevalent in, and so great an ornament to Welsh 
poetry, I have sparingly ventured upon, and 
with little hope of the experiment's success. 
In my poetic pilgrimage I found that people 
in general, particularly in the counties of Car- 
digan and Pembroke, on reading my prospec- 
tus, laid particular stress on the expected in- 
telligence concerning Cantrev y Gwaelod, so 
much so, that I began to be alarmed for the 
scantiness of my authenticated materials ; as 
one triad, and the universal tradition respec- 
ting that calamitous inundation, composed my 
sum total, and, as I thought, a sufficiency for 
the purposes of poetry. With an anxious desire 
that no part of my subscribers should experience 



PREFACE. Yll 



a disappointment, I assiduously sought for 
documents on the subject, and have succeeded 
in my pursuit beyond expectation ; for which, 
I have principally to thank the Rev. Mr. Tho- 
mas, author of "Memoirs of Owen Glendower/' 
whose polite and ready acquiescence with my 
request, in addition to the valuable historic 
matter afforded me, claims a grateful recol- 
lection and acknowledgement. There are 
few, it is hoped, but feel some interest, in the 
recital of a national calamity, although of a 
remote era, especially when affecting a country 
so far as to have one of its most beautiful and 
populous states swept away by the sea ; there- 
fore, would it be a bad compliment to the pa- 
triotism of the reader, to apologize for the great 
length of the introductory matter relative to the 
inundation of Cantrev y Gwaelod. In conse- 
quence of which, however, and the numerous, 
long, but interesting notes, composed partly, 
of the works of some of our bards, I have been 
obliged to keep back many poems originally 
intended for this publication, and among them 
cc Megan Verch Evan." It is with all humility 
and fearful anticipation, that I inform the reader 
that should this portion be fortunate enough to 
be well received, a second volume of " Welsh 
Minstrelsy/' shall shortly follow it; the prin- 



Vlll PREFACE. 



cipal poems in which shall be ee Rowena with 
the eyes of blue; or, the Plot of the Long 
Knives/' and ce Howel Sele ;" the latter, found- 
ed on events of the days of Owen Glyndower, 
in which that chieftain — our last national 
hero — principally figures : and the former, on 
the treacherous massacre of the British chiefs 
on Salisbury Plain, in the sixth century, by the 
Saxons, which gave them their first firm foot- 
ing in this island ; having always been beaten 
by the Britons, by land and sea, till deprived 
of their leaders by that atrocious event, in 
commemoration of which, it is now pretty 
generally admitted, the druidical temple of 
Stonehenge was erected, and so nicknamed by 
those whose interest it was to obscure, and 
ultimately bury the circumstance in oblivion. 



CONTENTS. 



The Land beneath the Sea — Subject I 

Canto 1 13 

Canto II 51 

Canto III 103 

The Noble of Nature 145 

My Chosen 146 

My Lowly Love 154 

The Woes of the Cottage 159 

Good Night 161 

Anglesea 162 

Sevi-lan-Gwy 165 

The Legend of Aberedw 172 

Llewenny 181 

The Maid of Pentre Velin 183 

The Mountain Ash of Llwyn-y-Neath 185 

Ye have frowned 189 

The Star of Liberty 191 

Lew Chew 195 

Kolatto and Adelaide , 198 

End of the Noble of Nature 204 

St. Germain's Field 209 

The Diarhebion of Catwg 216 

Cadavel the Wild 218 

Hilda's Defence of the Britons 221 

Owen ap Iorwerth 227 

The Triumph of Ivor Bach 233 



CONTENTS. IX 

Sir Tudor Vtiughan 240 

Sir David Gam 246 

Owen Tudor , 251 

John ap Meredith 257 

The Wife of Ap Robin 261 

Sir Rhys ap Thomas 268 

David Lloyd ap Llewelyn 271 

Notes 277 



ERRATA. 

PAGE. 

14 line 3 from bottom, insert the figure ( 6 ) at the end of the line. 

59 line 9 from top, for I think read they think. 

59 line 2 from bottom, for He read She. 

61 line 7 from top, for dove read drove. 

64 line 12 from bottom, for its ? read is't? 

78 line 15 from top, for leave read lave. 

88 line 17 from top, for negative read vegetive. 
104 line 4 from top, for so read to. 
1 12 line 9 from bottom, for So read Lo. 
114 line 1 from top, for to read so. 

114 line 12, for " Who would vend, read " Who'd vend. 

115 line 3 from bottom, for week read weed. 

116 line 9 from bottom is wrongly pointed, the passage should stand thu:- 

" noon or night 
Regarded not, the tender rite 
Prompt to perform, &c. 

126 line 7 from bottom, for zeals read zeal. 

127 line 6 from bottom, for currants read currents. 
133 line 15 from top, for vestiges read vestige. 

200 line 16, the word "no!" in the centre of the line is omitted. 
204 line 3 from bottom, for garnished read gairished. 
209 line 5 from bottom, for give read gave. 
219 line 16 from top, for brows read brow's. 
238 line 7 from top, for wakened read weakened. 



SUBJECT 



THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA 



l-<«€4fc**-«- 



1 HE Poem celebrates a singularly awful circumstance — an inun- 
dation by the sea of a beautiful and populous champaign country, 
called in Welsh Cantrev y Gwaelod, and in English the Lowland 
Hundred, a district of Cardigan and Pembrokeshire, recorded in the 
Welsh Historical Triads to have filled the space now occupied by the 
" tempestuous bay of Cardigan ;" and to have contained " sixteen 
fortified towns and cities, surpassing ail in Wales except Caerlleon on 
Uske." The author has met with some wiseacres, who ground their 
claim to extraordinary knowledge on an affectation of stubborn incre- 
dulity as to the existence of this calamitous, and well authenticated 
event, in the face of the most absolute proofs. The Rev. Thomas 
Thomas, author of " Memoirs of Owen Glendower," in a letter to the 
author, accompanying various historical extracts on the subject says, 
" I have enclosed every document in my possession, respecting Can- 
trev y Gwaelod, which coincide in proving the event, though they 
differ in the date and extent of the inundation ; an incongruity to be 
overlooked from Bards, Antiquaries, and Historians, who have written 
at different periods." The documents here alluded to, with many 
others here inserted, whatever may be the merit or demerit of the 
Poem, it is hoped will at least set the question at rest forever, and 
establish the indubitable fact of the inundation, to the satisfaction of 
all parties, except those who love cavilling and hate that conviction 
which would destroy a preconceived notion, however at variance with 
truth. Peter Pindar, of facetious memory, tell us that 

" Information to some folks is hell." 

The quotation is particularly applicable to those oracles of their own 
circle, who testily oppose every thing that has its source with others 

B 



^ LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

than themselves. The most ancient account of this melancholy catas- 
trophe is to be traced to a part of one of the Welsh triads, which 
among " the three notorious Drunkards of the Isle of Britain," ' re- 
cords one to be Seithenyn, the son of Seithyn Saidi, King of Demetia, 
who, when in a fit of intoxication, suffered the sea (by neglecting to 
attend to the sluices) to overflow the Lowland Hundred, or Cantrev 
y Gwaelod. For the purposes of Poetry, an atrocious motive is here 
given Seithenyn, for what is traditionally imputed to him merely as 
neglect ; and indeed it would otherwise be difficult to reconcile why 
a prince, and of another country too, should be a kind of a centinel 
over the sluices. As it may be necessary, to the satisfaction of the 
reader, that previous to commencing the Poem, he should carry in his 
mind a firm conviction of the reality and established authenticity of 
the groundwork, he is here presented with 



HISTORICAL AUTHORITIES, &c. 

Proving the Inundation of 

CANTREV Y GWAELOD. 

Meyrick, in his " History and Antiquities of the County of Cardi- 
gan," after enumerating the towns, &c. says, " there was formerly 
another hundred, called Cantrev y Gwaelod, or Lowland Hundred, 
now entirely covered with water. The authority we have for this, 
is partly traditionary and partly historical. The boundary of this, on 
the north-west, was, we are told, Sam Badrig, or St. Patrick's 
Causeway, which runs out to sea, in a serpentine manner, about two 
and twent}' miles from the coast of Merionethshire, about half way 
between Harlech and Barmouth. The coast included between this 
Causeway and Cardigan, bounded it on the nort-east and south sides, 
and a supposed line from Cardigan to the extremity of Sarn Badrig, 
formed its western limit. It seems to have been an extensive, rich 
country, containing several towns, and its principal city is supposed 
to have been Caer Wyddno, or Gwyddno's city. This Gwyddno was 
the last of its princes, and flourished from about the year 460 to 520 ; 
he was surnamed Garanhir, or Long Shanks, and was a poet. The 
Llyvr du o Gaervyrddin, or Black Book of Carmarthen, written as 
early as the ninth century, contains three specimens of the powers of 
his muse, which we shall present to the reader. 2 A moral Ode, a 
Poem on the inundation of Cantrev y Gwaelod, and a Contention be- 
tween Gwyddno and Gwyn ab Nudd." 

Merrick's Cardigan, p. 50. 

Caer Wyddno, or Patches, is a patch of foul ground, lying about 
two leagues north-west of Aberystwyth, dry on some low veres, and 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. O 

very dangerous; from thence there is a narrow ridge of foul ground 
to Gwallog, called Sarn Gynfelin, which makes the bay of Aber- 
ystwyth. 

Morris's Survey, p. 8. 

Tradition says that Caer Wyddo, was the city or castle of Gwyddno 
Garanhir, prince of Cantrev y Gwaelod, whose extensive domains 
were overflowed by the sea about the close of the sixth century. Yet 
tradition is but a vague authority, unless attended by some corres- 
ponding circumstances to confirm it, and which we fortunately have 
in this instance. A Welsh bard records this disastrous event in the 
following words : 

" Uchenaid Gwyddno Garanhir 

Pan droes y don dros ei dir." 

Carlisle's Topographical Dictionary, 

The Antiquary, Mr. Lewis Morris, mentions his having seen a stone 
found in the sands, about a hundred yards below high water mark, on 
the coast of Merionethshire, which was a part of this drowned country, 
with an inscription in Roman letters ; and there is an adage or pro- 
verb in every body's mouth in this part of Wales to this day, when any 
great tribulation happens : 

" Ochenaid Gwyddno Garanhir 

Pan droes y don dros ei dir," 
Which is literally, 

" The sigh of Gwyddno Garanhir 

When the wave turned over his land." 

Meyrick's Cardigan, p. 74, 

Cantrev y Gwaelod is supposed to have occupied that portion of St, 
George's channel which lies between the main land and a line drawn 
from Bardsey Isle to Ramsey, in the county of Pembroke : and the 
proprietor is called in ancient authors lord of Cantrev y Gwaelod, in 
Dyved; Dyved in old records always meaning the county of Pem- 
broke. Mr. Edward Llwyd greatly corroborates this tradition ; haying 
observed roots and stumps at a low ebb, in the sand between Borth 
and Aberdyfi, in the county of Cardigan. And Giraldus says that St. 
David's Head extended farther into the sea, and that trunks of trees 
with fresh marks of the axe were apparent, 

Carlisle, 

We may gather from these words of Giraldus, that this Cape (St. 
David's) once extended farther into the sea, and that the form of the 
promontory has been altered. " At such time as Henry II. vyas in 
Ireland, by reason of an extraordinary violence of storms, the sandy 
shores of this coast were laid bare, and the face of the land ap» 



4 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

peared, which had been covered for many ages. Also the trunks of 
trees which had been cut down, standing in the midst of the sea, with 
the strokes of the axe as fresh as if they had been yesterday : with 
very black earth, and several old blocks like ebony. So that it did 
not appear like the sea shore, but rather resembled a grove, by a mi- 
raculous metamorphosis, perhaps ever since the time of the deluge, 
or else long after, at leastwise very anciently, as well cut down as 
consumed and swallowed up by degrees, by the violence of the sea, 
continually encroaching upon, and washing off the land." And that 
saying of William Rufus shews that the lands were not here disjoined 
by any great sea, who, when he beheld Ireland from these rocks, said, 
he could easily make a bridge of ships, whereby he might walk from 
England into that kingdom. 

Camden's Britannia, p. 632. 

Addition to the above by Edward Llwyd. " Besides this instance 
of the sea sands being washed off, we find the same to have happened 
about the year 1590. For Mr. George Owen, who lived at that time, 
and is mentioned by our author as a learned and ingenious person, 
gives us the following account of it, in a manuscript history of this 
county. About twelve or thirteen years since, it happened that the 
sea sands at Newgal, which are covered every tide, were by some ex- 
traordinary violence of the waves, so washed off, that there appeared 
stocks of trees, doubtless in their native places ; for they retained 
manifest signs of the strokes of the axe at the falling of them." 

Camden's Britannia, p. 635. 

Sarn Badrwyg (vulgarly Sarn Badric) is a stone wall which runs 
out into the sea from Mochras, a point of land a few miles south of 
Harlech, in a south-west direction, for nearly twenty miles. It is a 
wonderful work, being throughout, about twenty -four feet thick. 
Sarn y Bwch runs from a point north-west of Harlech, and is sup- 
posed to meet the end of this. The space between these, formed, some 
centuries ago, a habitable hundred to Merionethshire, called Cantref 
Gwaelod. The Welsh have yet traditions respecting several of the 
towns, as Caer Gwydddo, Caer Cenedor, &c. These walls were built 
to keep the sea out. About the year 500, when Gwyddno Goronhir 
(Gwyddno with the high crown) was lord of this hundred, one of the 
men who had the care of the dams got drunk, and left open a flood- 
gate. The sea broke through with such force as also to tear down 
part of the wall, and overflow the whole hundred, which, since that 
time has always been completely flooded. Thus is Cardigan bay, a 
principal part of which Cantref Gwaelod formerly occupied, for many 
miles so full of shoals as to render it extremely dangerous for a vessel 
of any burthen to venture at all near the Merionethshire coast. 

Bingley's North Wales, vol. 2, p. 20. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. O 

Sarn Badrig, i. e, Patrick's Causeway, off the Cwmwc! of Ardudwy, 
cantref of Dunodig, (now called the hundred of Ardudwy,) county of 
Merioneth, North Wales. According to Mr. Morris, this is a ledge of 
rocks, very narrow and steep on the north side, but with regular 
soundings on the other. It is dry at low water spring tides, for about 
twenty-one miles to sea, stretching out from the coast of Merioneth- 
shire, and lies about east-north-east, and west-south-west. The ex- 
treme end is about four leagues south-south-west from b.. Tudwal's 
road. Numbers of vessels have been lost here. History informs us 
that all the bay between the causeway and the county of Cardigan, 
was formerly dry land, called Cantref y Gwaelod, i. e. the Bottom 
Hundred ; and that the whole of this territory was inundated by the 
sea in the life time of Gwyddno Garanhir, who was the prince thereof, 
about the year 500. There is a poem still extant, composed by Tali- 
esin, upon this calamitous occasion. Gwyddno Garanhir was also a 
poet himself, and some of his composition is inserted in the Welsh 
Archaiology. 

Carlisle* 

Two leagues east from Cardigan Isle, lies Cribach road, where, tra- 
dition saj's, there was a town, before Cantre'r Gwaelod was inundated 
which was much frequented by the French in former wars, and shows 
how well that nation was acquainted with our coast. 

Morris's Survey, p. §. 

This inundation must have happened about the year 520, which was 
in king Arthur's time. Elphin was the son of this Gwyddno, and the 
patron of the great poet Taliesin. Indeed it was to him that Taliesin 
owed his existence and success. It is a curious circumstance that 
Taliesin was found exposed in a wear belonging to Gwyddno, the 
profit of which he had granted to his son prince Elphin. Being an 
extravagant youth, and not finding the usual success, Elphin grew 
melancholy ; and his fishermen attributed his misfortune to his riotous 
irregular life. When the prodigal Elphin was thus bewailing his mis- 
fortunes, the fishermen espied a coracle with a child in it, wrapped up 
in a leathern bag. They brought him to the young prince, who ordered 
care to be taken of him, and when he grew up gave him the best 
education, from which he became the most celebrated bard of his time. 
The accomplished Taliesin was introduced by Elphin to his father 
Gwyddno's court, where he delivered him a poem giving an account 
of himself, entitled Hanes Taliesin, 3 or Taliesin's History, which in the 
notes, is presented to the reader. When afterwards Elphin fell in 
disgrace with Maelgwn Gwynedd, under whose protection he had 
placed himself after the loss of his patrimonial territory, Tgliesin being 
then the poet, prophet, and counsellor of Maelgwn, procured Elphin's 
release out of prison. We have the invocation for Elphin's release 



6 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

still preserved in a song entitled Canu y Medd, or an Address to Mead, 
a celebrated Welsh beverage, extracted from a distillation of honey, 
&c. Taliesin wrote another also on the same subject, but addressed 
I'r Gwynt, To the Wind. 

Meyricfc's Cardigan, p. 62. 

It seems very probable that Sarn Badrig was one of the boundaries of 
Cantrev y Gwaelod ; for ail that vast ridge becomes dry at low water, 
and is very deep on the north side, but shelving on the other. Besides 
this, there are still to be seen, at low water, four other causeways, or 
roads, in this Cantrev. They are Sarn y Bwch, or the Goat's cause- 
way, which extends about a mile and a half into the sea, just by Aber- 
dysyni, in Merionethshire. Sarn Cynfelyn, or St. Cynfelin's causeway, 
to whom there is a church in Cardiganshire dedicated. This extends 
seven miles into the sea, from a place called Gwallawg, or Gwallog, in 
Cardiganshire, which seems to imply the inundation of this territory, 
as it signifies "defective." At the end of this causeway is Caer 
Wyddno, very rocky ground, and supposed to have been the royal re^ 
sidence. The next is Sarn Ddewi, or St. David's causeway, extending 
about a quarter of a mile into the sea, and being exactly in the same 
line with the church of Llan Ddewi Aberarth, or St. David's at the 
mouth of the river Arth. The last is Sarn Cadwgan, or Cadwgan's road, 
about half a mile or more from Sarn Ddewi, and reaching rather more 
than a mile and a quarter into the sea. Just where this juts out from 
the shore is an old fort, called Castell Cadwgan. Besides these roads 
there is a great deal of ground that becomes dry at low water. About 
three miles to the west of Aberaeron, in this county, and about half a 
mile from the shore, is a piece of foul ground called Eglwys y rhiw,or 
the Church on the hill side. At the end of Sarn Badrig, just before men- 
tioned, are sixteen large stones, one of which is four yards in diameter. 
There are also roots of trees in their natural situation to be seen in the 
sea in this Cantrev ; and as the ocean still gains on the coast of Merion- 
ethshire, in that beautiful valley called Dyffryn Ardudwy, it is pro- 
bable all that low ground will undergo the same fate in the process of 
time, by the almost constant westernly winds, which blow the sea upon 
that coast, and cover it with sands. On the coast of Merionethshire, 
between Aberdyvi and Towyn, is a turbary, regularly covered every 
tide by sand thrown over by the sea. When it is low water the people 
scrape off the sand and dig turf from it. 

Meyrick's Cardigan, p. 72, 73, 74. 

The sea sand, in several parts on the coast of this county (Pem- 
broke), having been formerly washed away at different times, by a long 
continuance of stormy weather, discovered very large trees, some of 
which having been felled, lay at full length, while the trunks of others 
stood upright in the place where they grew. The trees lay so thick, 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 7 

and in such numbers, that the shore, for a considerable space, appeared 
like a forest cut down. On these trees were as plainly the marks of 
the axe as if they had been but just felled ; but the wood was become 
hard and black as ebony. Hence it appears that great part of the 
coast of this county was anciently a forest, upon which the sea broke 
in, and at length covered it with sand. 

Description of England and Wales. 

According to the triads, the haven of king Gwyddno, in North Wales, 
was one of the three principal or privileged harbours in Britain ; 4 and if 
it was formed of that portion of the sea, included between Sam Badrig 
and the coast of Merionethshire, it is by no means wonderful that it 
should have obtained this distinguished appellation. The arms of 
Gwyddno, as appears by an old manuscript written about the latter 
part of the sixteenth century, were gules a griffin displayed vert ; and 
those of his son Elphin, or a griffin segrant vert, whose descendants are 
men of Llanegwad, Carmarthenshire. 

MeyricWs Cardigan, p. 75. 

Among the papers of the late Theophilus Jones, of Brecon, Esq. a 
very celebrated Welsh herald, the following curious pedigree was 
found : Gwyddno Goronhir, prince of Cantref Gwaelod, on that part 
of Cardiganshire and North Wales which was swallowed up by an 
inundation of the sea, during his reign, about the year 520. His de- 
scendants are, Llwyd, of Towyn, Merionydd ; Pugh, of Mathafarn ; 
Perkins, of Pilston, Monmouthshire ; Pryce, of Gunley, Monmouth- 
shire, and Pant y Perchill ; Evans and Davids, of Newtown Carmar- 
thenshire ; and Parry, of Noyadd, Tyglyn, Blaenplant, and Cilgeran 
Forest, in Cardiganshire and Pembrokeshire. History as well as tra- 
dition agree in stating that Cantref Gwaelod, (in English the hundred 
towns on the level or flats) of which my ancestor, Gwyddno Goron-hir 
(in English Gwyddno with the long crown) was the king or reigning 
prince, reached all the way to the Irish coast, that it was only a small 
river divided them, till it was inundated. I have often heard it said, 
that the Earl of Farnhan, and the member for Cavanshire, who write 
their names with a B instead of a P : viz. Barry instead of Parry, 
have the same blood running in their veins by the maternal sides, 
being descended from prince Gwyddno. The Marquis of Sligo, and 
other noblemen in Ireland, are relations by the father's side, having 
emigrated from Green Castle, near Carmarthen, possessed by the 
Browns, a very ancient family now extinct. Bingley, vol. i. p. 125, 
says that Gwyddno Garanhir was brother of Maelgwyn Gwynedd. 

Among the thirteen rarities of kingly regalia in the Island of Britain, 
the (bird is mentioned as belonging to Gwyddno Garanhir. " Mwys 
(neu Bwlan) Gwyddno Garanhir ; buyd i ungwr a roid ynddi, a buyd 



8 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

i gannwr a gaid ynddi pen egorid." The budget, basket, or weel of 
Gwyddno, surname d longshanks ; if provision for a single person were 
put into it to keep, a sufficiency of victuals for a hundred persons 
would be found in it when opened. This weel was probably some 
kind of a fishing basket, which having sufficient bait for one person^ 
might be the means of catching as many fish as would satisfy a hundred. 

MeyricWs Cardigan, p. 74. 

Besides so much authentic information relative to Cantrev y Gwaelod, 
the Rev. Mr. Griffiths, of Llwyndyris, in this county, has an old poem, 
compiled, most probably from tradition, with a little colouring from 
the author, whose name is unknown. 6 

Meyrick's Cardigan, p. 76. 

Here we close, and the reader is placed as a judge on a point in 
history of peculiar interest, never disputed but by those who are 
strangers to the coast, as well as the various extracts here quoted ; 
which, like witnesses on a trial, have deposited their evidence here 
without a comment. The triads, the poems of Gwyddno Garanhir, and 
other documents here alluded to, and given in the notes, are also indu- 
bitable proofs of the disastrous, melancholy event. The forests, noticed 
by all writers on this subject, are here described as containing trees of 
large demensions ; and as such are never found near the coast, it is an 
argument demonstrating that lands of some extent must have been 
flooded before the ocean reached so far inland, as the very air of the 
sea is unfriendly to the growth of trees. The five different causeways, 
or roads, mentioned by Meyrick, with the other concurring accounts, 
and not the least in the scale of evidences, the pedigrees derived from 
prince Gwyddno weigh well to the point : but the translation of Can- 
trev y Gwaelod to be " the hundred towns on the flats," is erroneous ; 
it simply means the hundred of the lowland. On the other side, the 
various modes in which Gwyddno's surname is written, as Giranhir, 
Garanhir, and Goronhir, do not at all invalidate, or weaken the testimo- 
nies of his existence. It is a curious circumstance, highly illustrative, 
and forming a strong component to the mass of proofs already adduced, 
that Bardsey Island, in Cardigan bay, situate on the Carnarvon coast, 
and three miles from the mainland, is still considered a part of Pem- 
brokeshire, and pays its taxes, &c. as such, although part of the coast 
of Carnarvonshire, and the whole of the coast of Cardigan, intervene 
between that island and the rest of the county of Pembroke. When 
this is taken in connection with the extract from Carlisle, which says, 
" Cantref y Gwaelod is supposed to have occupied that portion of St. 
George's Channel which lies between the mainland and a line drawn 
from Bardsey Island to Ramsey, in the county of Pembroke : and the 
proprietor is called in ancient authors lord of Cantref y Gwaelod in 
Dyfed ; Dyfed in old records always meaning Pembrokeshire," — the 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 9 

conclusion is obvious. But it also would infer that Cantrev y Gwaelod 
was more a district of Pembroke than Cardigan, while Gwyddno Ga- 
ranhir's being styled king of Caredigion, or Cardiganshire, in some 
records, would again shew an apparent contradiction, which is easily 
cleared up by the great probability that his dominions included both 
counties in addition to the country lost. As the English reader may 
not readily yield the credit due to records contained in the Welsh 
triads, but consider them merely in the light of vague tradition, or in- 
genious fiction, the following account of those singular vehicles of 
ancient British history, from the pen of his own countryman, Meyrick, 
may be satisfactory ; premising, that as the Druids did not commit 
either their precepts or records to writing, the memory was the univer- 
sal depository. " The triads are a species of record peculiar to the 
Welsh, the convenience of such a form for the purpose of oral tradition 
is self-evident, the number of circumstances being neither too few to 
make an impression, nor too many to be clearly and strongly impressed 
on the memory, whether historic facts or moral precepts. Possibly it 
was from such an use, together with its allusion to the trinity, that the 
number three itself was held sacred ; as also from its being a kind of 
limit of the natural power of repeated exertion. This idea is so far, 
however, founded in nature, that it became a favourite with the poets 
of all ages. The ancient Druids and the Bards, among whom alone 
learning was preserved, transmitted the principles of history and 
science under this form to their disciples ; and hence, from the antipathy 
of the disseminators of the Christian doctrines to their institutes, these 
valuable resources, though not entirely, have been long cut off from 
the knowledge of succeeding ages. These triads being merely com- 
memoratives of facts, no further connected with each other than by 
similarity, the dates of the facts can only be known from internal, or 
concurrent evidences to each severally. 

" Besides these triads, the Welsh possess other historical documents 
in their ancient chronicles, and in the productions of their poets. These 
venerable sages, whose maxim, in conjunction with the druids, was, Y 
gwir yn erbyn y byd, " the truth against the world," had so great a re- 
gard for it, that fiction is seldom, if ever, employed in the poems 
transmitted to us. Merddin, Taliesin, Aneurin, and Llywarch Hen, 
are names to whom the historian must confess his gratitude. Their 
existence and their evidence have been most ably vindicated from the 
malevolent aspersions of the ignorant, and they must be admitted to 
form a vast source of historical knowledge. Even these who were 
conversant with the Welsh language, had but little opportunity of 
searching into the annals of their country, and comparing them with 
accounts of the Roman and Saxon writers. Our own history is much 
indebted to the Welsh records, which have been judiciously employed 

C 



10 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

by Sharon Turner, Esq. F. S. A. an assiduous contributor to Saxon 
literature. It is in this age, when literature, from the highest example, 
is patronized by all ranks of people, that those valuable records have 
been saved from decay ; rescued from private libraries, where they 
hr.d become food for moths and vermin ; and laid before the public. 
The Welsh Archaiology presented a new and interesting source of 
knowledge, and into that we are to look for such information as our 
own antiquaries have either confounded by their ignorance of the 
subject, or left unexplained. The Welsh poets, so long as they con- 
tinued under their own laws, never admitted fiction into their composi- 
tions, as appears from those now extant of that time, and it is curious 
that during the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries, while the poems of all 
Europe abounded in giants, fairies, and other legendary fictions, those 
of Wales were purely historical, religious, or moral." 

It may not be irrelevant to add the following accounts, which* 
although they relate to another inundation, it was about the same 
period, and on the adjoining coast, therefore they must be admitted to 
throw an oblique light on the subject under present consideration. 

All the rest of the bay, (speaking of (he bay of Beaumaris) for 
several miles, is left dry at low water, and has the name of Lavan 
sands. These are supposed to have formed a habitable hundred of 
Caernarfonshire, that was overflowed during the sixth century. In 
the churchyard of Abergeley, a village on the coast of Caernarfonshire, 
there is the following inscription : 

Yma mae'n gorwedd 

Ym monwent Mihangel, 

Gwr oedd a'i annedd 

Dair milldir yn y gogledd.* 
Bodies of oak trees, tolerably entire, have been discovered at low 
water, in a tract of hard loam, far from the present banks of the sea. 
Bingley's North Wales, vol. l,p. 335. 

Immediately under and adjoining the parish of Llanfair-fechan, and 
that of Aber, is a large tract of land, about twelve miles in length, by 
seven or eight miles in breadth ; being formerly the possessions of 
Llys Helig ab Glanog, which was overflowed in a the sixth century, and 
are now called Traeth Llafan, or the Lavan sands. 

Carlide. 



* This is an Epitaph which merely implies, the inhabitant of that 
grave lived three miles northward of the spot of his present occupation. 
It is necessary to add that now the sea bathes the very walls of the 
church-yard in that direction. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



CANTO I. 



THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA 



CANTO I. 

And thou art lost beneath the waters — - 
Once loveliest of Cymru's daughters ! — 
Thou flosculous and fruitful fair one ! 
The sun has wept his perish'd rare one, 
As weeps the heart-rent widow'd lover 
His chosen maid whose smiles are over : — 
And never in his circuit ample 
Since has he seen so sweet a sample 
Of earthly charms — the pride of nature! 
So fine of form, so sweet of feature : 
So comely in thy daily vesture 
Thou Beauty of the winning gesture ! 
None who view'd, but quick approving, 
Grew entranced, and yearn' d with loving ! 
But thou art lost beneath the Waters, 
Once loveliest of Cymru's daughters ! 

Thou wert salubrious and pure, 

The sweet-breath'd Mountain was thy wooer, 



14 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

Thy nymph-like form in bloom that sparkled, 

His giant arms near semicircled — 

Whilst thou, the coarse embrace defeating, 

To hoary Ocean down retreating, 

A soft and trembling refugee — 

The sought protector turn'd on thee, 

As a ruthless human daemon, 

On a helpless tearful woman. 

But thou art lost beneath the Waters, 

Once loveliest of Cymru's daughters. 

The Mountain mourns his buried loved one, 

The wondering Earth's most sweet approved one ! 

And sighs afar the healthy gale, 

O'er thy vast grave, long perish'd vale ! 

And thou whose robe with gems was shower'd, 

With every hue of beauty flower'd, 

That once didst trip in virgin pride, 

Full merry as a peasant's bride — • 

Gay, proud, magnific, and august, 

E'en as an empress bright and just; — 

Thou — once of youthful smile so vivid, 

Oh now art lifeless, pale, and livid ; 

A grave of water's now thy home, 

Thy shroud the niveous ocean-foam. 

Yes, thou art lost beneath the Waters, 

Once loveliest of Cambria's daughters." 

So, to myself in thought, I said. 
As o'er Pen-Dinas Hill I stray'd, 
Gazing downward o'er the bay, 
Pond'ring, strangely to essay, 



Canto J. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 15 



And trace the Country, waves had swallow'd 
In ages past — Cantrev y Gwaelod: — 
For bright in Cambria's history, 

Shines that beauteous level land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 
The Land beneath the Sea — 
The lawns, at which all strangers wonder'd, 
E'en Europe's gem, the Lowland Hundred. 

Long gazed I on th' unruffled wave; 
Vast tombstone of a Country's grave — 
But not a vestige could be seen, 
That told, a Country there had been : 
Their boats the boatmen o'er it row, 
And vessels pass there to and fro, 
O'er the tops of lofty towers, 
Over fields, and groves, and bowers, 
Villages, and towns, and cities, 
Whose ruin now no being pities, 
Although calamities more dire, 
Oh never roused amazement's fire; — 
A greatly wondrous wild event 
As e'er created marvelment, 
Fraught with awful ruinous blast, 
As e'er struck listener aghast — 
But centuries have past — the breast 
Clings not to things remote, with zest; 
And men are apt to doubt the tale, 
Where strange recitals much prevail. — 
Indifference — incredulity — 
Thus bid true records cease to be, 



16 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto J, 

And true historian oft I wist, 



Thence deemed a very fabulist : — 

And yet — to think on our own land, 

Such things did hap — might sure command 

Energy's most anxious strain, 

In breasts of country-loving men, 

And foremost in the mental march, 

Philosophy's deep wise research, 

Scan of antiquarian hoar, 

And song of bard, loved evermore, 

To perpetuate or revive 

Events or feats ; and prize and hive, 

All, whatsoe'er's vernacular 

Of ancient days — of peace or war. 

So thought I, gazing o'er the bay, 
Wandering on a fair spring day, 
And long there stood, in pensive mood, 
And paused and ponder'd o'er the flood, 

In all the depth of serious thought ; — 
Then moving down towards the town, 
Wrapt in Cambria's past renown, 

My eyes a figure caught — 
By Aberystwyth's castle's ruin, 
As if the slumber'd billows viewing, 
A man of age, and aspect sage, 
With palmer's staff of pilgrimage, 

Of contour strong, yet looks most meek, 
Sat with his face towards the sea, 
His elbow resting on his knee, 

And hand beneath his cheek; 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 17 



Well deem'd I, he, as well as me, 
Was wrapt in pensive reverie, 
While thinking of the lovely land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea — 
The C ountry ancient song had hallow'd, 
The perish'd fair, Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
The land at which all strangers wonder'd, 
E'en Europe's gem — the Lowland Hundred. 

He was, in sooth, a fine old man ; — 

And much my thought delights to scan, 

The health-fraught, time-defying red 

On age's grave cheek, — the hoary head 

That never knew the palsied shake, 

That does not wander, droop, nor ache. 

Where reason graced by beauty shines, 

Humanity antique sublimes : — 

Oh fair's the charm of hale wise age, 

That smiled on many a winter's rage, 

Though scathed, yet strong — unyielding still, 

Like green-wreath'd tower on a hill, 

That years and storms are e'er pursuing, 

Oh beautifully gay in ruin ! — 

He was, in sooth, a fine old man, 

As ever mountain breeze did fan, 

And brace and nerve, to vigour rouse, 

With breath so salutiferous ! 

And he look'd kind and heavenly good ? 

Array'd in ancient pulchritude ; 

Divest of all th' ascetic pride 

That glooms the would-be sanctified : 



18 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto J. 

His hair was white, eternal night 
Had thrown her shadows o'er his sight, 
Yet boasted he, right merrily, 
That he beheld far more than me^ 
Of that same beauteous buried land, 
Now changed to water, stone and sand, — 

The Land beneath the Sea: : — 
The Country ancient song had hallow'd, 
The perish'd fair Cantrev y Gwaelod, 
The lawns at which all Europe wonder'd, 
The gem of lands — the Lowland Hundred. 

He pleased me well, the gay old man, 
His jests, himself mock-praising, ran; 
"How can it be that you can see" — 
(Cried I, jocosely) " more than me, 

Since you're a man of darkness ? 
The sun to you doth nothing shew, 
All bears th' eternal gloom of woe, 

Chaotic, dull, and markless." 
'^Not so," — (the old man answered kind,) 
Ci Than me I'll prove you far more blind: — 
What can you see in yonder bay, 
Save far-spread water at noon day, 

Or boats, perchance, and ships beside? — 
But through the wave my glance is cast, 
I see all as in ages past, 

The Lowland Hundred's pride, — 
The fair champaign, the growing grain, 

The royal park and smiling farms, 
Each village neat, and city great, 
The plenteous harvest — boscage sweet, 

Both Art and Nature's charms ; 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA, 19 



Sixteen fair towns well fortified, 
Surpassing all in Wales beside, 

(Except Caerlleon, the bright and proud) 
All view I in their ancient dress, 
Oh bright as song could e'er express, 

Where living souls do crowd; — 
All's clear to me as eye can see, 
The vivid beauty of that land, 
Which you deem water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea — 
The deluged Country, song has hallow'd, 
In ancient days — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
The vale at which the trav'ller wonder'd, 
E'en Europe's gem — the Lowland Hundred," 

I smiled the gay old man to hear ; 

He grasp'd my hand with warmth sincere, 

And said, in manner truly kind, 
" Excuse an old man's folly, pray, 
What though I view no gleam of day, 
Nor can discern a floret's hue, 
Begem'd with summer's morning dew. 
Nor God's dear gift, the gracious light, 
Yet, see I still — in darkness' spite — 

Mine eyes are of the mind !* 
And though by Heaven's decree denied 
The view of nature's bloom and pride, 
The ample sky with stars impeaiTd, 
And God's great lamp that lights the world, 

* " But it were with the ilk eyen of his mind, 
With which men seen after they been blind." 

Chaucer — Man of Law's Tale. 



20 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

I sorrow not— for I've a bliss 
That compensates a loss like this, 
Though once I deem'd it very death, 
And drew in pain long years my breath ; 
The nerve disused for sight, is used 

To strengthen other faculties ; 
Thence grows the ear so silv'ry clear. 
That sounds the most remote are near, 

To him who nothing sees ; — 
And so the blessed powers that be, 
Dear guardians of humanity, 
For good witheld, to reptiles give 
A saving power to relieve, 
In pity to the dark ordain, 
The mole should hear the softest strain^ 

Or danger's lightest tread, 
And that the "snake, within its brake, 
With clogg'd up ear, asleep or wake, 

In spreading circles laid, 
Has still an eye, and it can spy 

Whatever there's to dread : — 
But oh to man, supremely kind ! 
Him Heaven donors with a mind — 
And more than stilly sounds I drink, 
For I do think — aye, strongly think, 
Until my wand'ring mind inherits 
Its place within the world of spirits; 
And oh the blessed sweets of thought — 
On Earth commensurate there's nought I 
Not even light — had I my sight, 
To view the beautiful and bright, 

And all the blessings flowing thence. 



Canto I. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. %\ 

But in that hour to lose the power 

Of self-communion — deep — intense — 

I would forego its blessed sense ! — 
Roused with imagination bright, 
I rarely knew the gloom of night, 

Nor ought that springs nausea ; 
The chearful heart on fancy's wing, 
E'en cuckoo like comes with the spring 

Gluts on the sweet idea ! 
Thus oft I sit me in the sun, 
On spots where deeds of note were done, 
And build the scene as it had been, 
(Warm Fancy's architecture keen,) 

Full many ages past; — 
My guiding boy, then full of joy, 
His playmates joins in boat or hoy, 

But leads me home at last ; 
My chary lad is always glad, 

His grandsire's hours to cheer ; 
(I've taught the boy to call me so, 
Though nought to me is he I trow,) 
The harp he plays, and 'twould amaze 

You much his skill to hear ; 
And oft he'll read me ancient tales, 
Penillion,* triads, hoar of Wales. — 

I now came here to see 
All he read of that famed land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea ; — 



* Penillion, a short lyric Poem, resembling the Epigram, except 
in its tendency to point and wit. They are generally of four or sis; 
lines, and sung to the Harp, 



22 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

That Country by a deluge swallow'd — 
That martyr'd land, Cantrev y Gwaelod, 
So sudden from existence sunder'd — 
That gem of lands — the Lowland Hundred. " 

" Oh tell me" — eagerly I cried, 
" Of all that did that land betide, 
For scantily am I informed; 
But it has e'er my bosom warm'd 
To read or hear a Cymro speak 
My nation's history antique." 
Full readily the blind old man, 
Cantrev y Gwaelod's tale began." 

" The Vale of Clwyd e'en strangers prize, 
As Britain's very Paradise, 7 
Eulogized in tour and stricture, 
Described in poesy and picture, 
With glowing strain and vivid tint, 
Addulced by taste's most finish'd dint — 
Its antique towers, unbrageous bowers, 

Its verdant lawns and waving groves, 
Romantic rocks and grazing flocks, 
No contrast harsh the sight that shocks, 

But all that chastest fancy loves ! 
There frisking goats brouse in the moats, 

Where dark deep floods once circumfused, 
Round castles high, that now low lie, 

For many ages since disused : -r— 
Green dales and hills with verdure graced, 
White gay chateaus and lawns of taste ; 
Enclosed with pales and quickset sweet, 
The peasant's cot is more than neat ; 



Canto I. 



Canto I. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 23 

The bracing air with health imbued, 

All freshness, softness, claritude ;— 

With vast embrace to circumvest, 

And bound the whole, high hills are placed ; 

Upon each fair majestic brow, 

Bold trees of various natures grow : — 

Sweet look the intersecting waters, 

'Twixt hills, o'er plains, now seen, now lost, 
But more — man's hearty sons and daughters, 

Warm beauty's crown of priceless cost ! 
The children of the Britons — fair 
And brave as Europe's choicest are, 
With nature's honest frankness graced, 
E'er gainly form'd and florid faced ! 
Combined, the mental beauty charm'd, 
Else what avails how faced or form'd. 
But oh, the Land that's in its grave, 
Could boast a scene thrice amply brave, 

Yet now, not e'en it's corse see we, — 
Though once the pride of Britain's land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea ; — 
The country ancient song had hallow'd, 
That martyr'd land, Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
So sudden from existence sunder'd, 
That gem of lands, the Lowland Hundred. 

"In those far days lived Prince Seithenyn, 
The worthless son of Dyfed's breninj* 

* Brenin, the welsh word for King, 



24 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

(One number'd in the triad, he, 

Of Britain's arrant drunkards three;) 

He woo'd a princess of the land. 

Bright Rona of the snow-white hand, 

The zest of bards, the star of song, 

Round whom did high-born princes throng ; 

But — virgin of the gentle thought! 

Far other mate than him she sought, 

And smiled on princely Elfin, son 

Of Gwyddno, king of Ceredigion, 

Whose praises sung with warm regard, 

He — Britain's highly gifted bard, 

Famed Taliesin, strangely found 8 

Upon the Lowland Hundred's ground, 

Gwyddno Giranhir's wear, 
Exposed in helpless infant years, 
Whom gen'rous Elfin nobly rears, 

And in return found cheer, 
And Love and consolation kind, 
From the poet's grateful mind, 
When with despondence oft he pined 

In lassitude most drear ; - — 
Oh in th' atrabilarious hour, 
Dear, dear, is Friendship's gen'rous power I 
The evil angel half retreats 
From him who doth possess its sweets, 
Though clutch'd within its daemon hand, 
Or smit by Desolation's brand, 
The heart half- withered may revive, 
And new-born Hope fresh treasures hive. 
Yes, 'twas that earth did boast the birth 

Of him —the prince of bards, 



Canto J. 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 25 



Which might give name, and deathless fame. 
E'en to a sterile land of shame, 

And claim the world's regards : 
But Gwyddno's wear hath ceased to be, 
And all of that same beauteous land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea; — 
That country by a deluge swallow'd — 
That martyr'd land — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
So sudden from existence sunder'd, 
That gem of lands — the Lowland Hundred. 

Of her he loved so well bereaved, 
Most wildly sad Seithenyn grieved, 
And jealousy diseased his blood, 
As if the madd'ning herb he chew'd — 
He grew a prodigy — a wonder — 
E'er disregarding storm or thunder, 
While darkness would his steps entice, 
Oft would he seek each precipice 
That Danger made his chosen haunt, 
And nought was there his breast to daunt 
In fighting elements — resort 
Would he where they caused awful sport, 
Th' intoxicating cup he quafFd, 
At times he wept — at times he laugh'd — 
At times, for hours he'd ponder on, 
Bat speak or answer make to none; 
Then to his rage give widest scope, 
And rave and curse his blighted hope, 
In disappointed passion's keenness, 
And yet in mere splenetic meanness. 

E 



26 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

Repulsed where love's fond wishes lie 

What tongue can tell the agony — 

When ardent love and gallant pride, 

At once are stung and mortified ? — 

Ah where's th' ingenious form of speech, 

The deep excess of pang can reach, 

That wrathful blasts what kindest blooms — 

That man's warm heart of hearts consumes ? 

What tongue of, eloquence can tell 

The palpitating bosom swell — 

The throb intense — the wild commotion — 

The lava of a boiling ocean, 

Divided to a thousand streams, 

And each with glowing fire that teems — 

Electric floods ! through nerves and pulses 

That rush — till all the frame convulses ; 

Oh then in listlessness to languish, 

Heart-broke, unnerved, in death of anguish — 

To think — until bewilder' d think — "} 

The poison of despair so drink — > 

Perchance to leap o'er ruin's brink — j 

For dread the frenzy, extreme the deeds, 

A numbing calm likethis succeeds — 

The desperate season to allure 

Man to be destruction's wooer, 

And in his phantasy's wild pride, 

To clasp and win his daemon bride, — 

But oh — in sooth, I share his pain, 

To tell of him who loved in vain. 

Dared reason in so wild an hour, 
Exert her wise and righteous power, 



Canto J. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 27 



Well might she deem all folly's sottage, 
Mere childhood's whims or age's dotage ; 
And she might weep to mark man frantic, 
Thus spurning peace with rage romantic, 
Since on great truth's eternal shrine, 
Truth's self inscribed these words divine, — ■ 
" Connubial bliss man ne'er shall find 
Save in the dear congenial mind." 

But oh the mightiness of man ! 

The spark whence awful ruin began, 

Was but an evil cast on one — 

And he — wild passion's frantic son ! 

Back hurl'd it on a num'rous host, 

Thence swept off from the earth and lost ; 

E'en as the Greeks with nobler view, 

To a friend's manes their hundred's slew, — 

But self-avenging, he 
A population and fair land 
Transforms to water, stone, and sand— 

A Land beneath the Sea, — 
A country ancient song hath hallow'd 
That gem of vales, — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
So sudden from existence sunder'd, 
That lovely land — the Lowland Hundred. 

Now chafed and spurr'd to calid madness, 

In all the cecity of sadness, 

The drunkard son of Dyved's king 

Felt hopeless love's wild racking sting ; 

Oh that immedicable wound 

To cicatrize no charm is found ! 



28 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

When the spirit fierce and proud 

Is baffled in the aim avow'd3 — 

When it no fortune knows to bless 

So beatific as success ; 

Nor no disgrace so fraught with shame 

As failure in that bosom-aim : — 

Then disappointment 'gainst success 

Durst e'en God's laws and man's transgress ; 

His burning malice roused and hurried 

In tiger springs of vengeance furied. 

Seithenyn's wrath was unsublimed 

With ought that bears a gen'rous glow — 
'Twas subtly by reflexion timed, 

And fraught with direst woe ; — 
His bound-disdaining, with'ring hate, 
The world would fain incinerate, 
And revel with demoniac glee, 
Could he the conflagration see 
Aloof, and on a cloud unscathed, 
And glory in the horrid waste. 

Yet was it void of princely bearing, 
Divest of manhood's gallant grace, 
'Twas dark, malignant, stilly, base, 

Reverse of bright chivalrous daring — 
Resembling — not a torrent's force 
Greatly ruinous in its course — 
Rut a green foetid choked up stream 
That doth with slimy reptiles teem, 
Damm'd up for seasons of great length, 
To gather power, nerve, and strength ; 
And then enfranchised in its might. 
In all the force of deadly spite, 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 29 



Like bursting lava, blackly deep, 
Down bearing life off, in its sweep ; 
Then rolling darkly o'er the dead, 
Or in billowy leapings dread 
Mad celebrating triumph fell, 
In dev'lish glee and songs of hell. 

Instead of combat-daring word, 
And manful, grasping spear and sword, 
He plann'd a deed the most abhorr'd — 
A deed so fell — which but to name 
The human face is dash'd with shame, 
And blanched with horror — oh a deed 
That God and man have death decreed, 
To its most pernicious doer — 
Wild speedy vengeance its pursuer ! 
A deed that darkness cannot hide, 
Though cavern'd deep, nor light abide — 
At which the flower-enamell'd earth 
Grows arid, and too ill for birth — 
Nature waxes wild — convulsed, 

And quaking to her bosom's cure, 
While from her face each charm's repulsed, 

As if to bloom no more, 
Perishing with deep nausea 
And horror oFthe damn'd idea. 

A band of blood he sought. 
Who took his pay to smite and slay, 
(Remorseless fierce Gwyddelians* they) 

And make his foe-man nought, 



* The Irish: their rule in Britain lasted twenty 



nine years. 



SO LAND BENEATH THE SEA, 



Canto J. 



And long he raii'd that still they fail'd 

To slake his rav'ning gory thirst, 
Soon did his brain prolific teem, 
E'en with a deeper, darker scheme, 

Thrice darker than the first — 
'Twas awfully terrific — great 
As master-fiend could machinate. 
While stalking once with steps unhallow'd, 
Through Gwyddno's pride, Cantrev y Gwaelod ; 

His eye the embankment caught, 
That parted from that vale the sea, 
He glutted on it joyously, 

And hatch'd a damned thought — 
So his ruin-devoting eyes, 
Satan fixed on Paradise, 
And all that smiled, or shone, or bloom'd, 
To utter dissolution doom'd; — 
The curst Seithenyn like him then, 
Vast towns and country, women, men, 
Anticipated tomb'd — 

'Twas then engender'd he, 
The ruin of that lovely land, 
By him made water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea — 
The Country ancient song had hallow'd, 
That beauteous land, Cantrev y Gwaelod, 
On which the trav'ller paused and wonder'd, 
Bright gem of lands— the Lowland Hundred! 

The paralizing villainy — 
The deep, the damn'd atrocity, 
Of his ferocious black design, 
Where all that's greatly bad combine, 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. SI 



Would shake his soul with transient fear, 
Yet, with the vase worst thoughts cohere, 
Whose fluid, like oil on fire, blazes, 
And timid indecision razes ; 
While sophistry upholds the merit, 
With chaster falsehood aids that spirit : 
At length, wound up in soul, he stood 
His enemy's fair land to flood — 
To blast but one — beneath the waters 
To stifle all men's sons and daughters — 
The human face young, fresh, and vivid, 
To render putrid, loathsome, livid, — 
Brave manly forms, adroit in motion, 
Make carcasses beneath the ocean — 
Rotting carcasses ! — and harmless 
Beauteous woman worse than charmless ; 
The sweet soft cheek so gayly florid, 
A skeleton of aspect horrid ; — 
And all for one — for one chance blow 
Of blast on him he call'd his foe. — 
To malice, oh, what poisonous food, 
Is appetible made, and good ; — 
In her maw insatiate dwell 
The rancorous fang, the gust of hell; — 
And then her thirst — what ample lake 
Her thirst unquenchable can slake ? 
Scarce life's accumulated streams, 
The hot hot blood of man that steams — 
She'll drink it boiling — to the lees! 
And wallow in quick crimson seas. 

His nation of the hills he sought, 
And to the vale of beauty brought, 



32 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

Those ruffians, who'd impignorate 
Their souls for pay, to glut his hate ; — * 
These secret ministers of ill, 
Burrow'd, many a midnight still, 
And for the cataclysm, made 
Channels deep, the scheme to aid ; 
And with a cunning most refined, 
Th' embankments vast they undermined, 
Jagg'd all their length with chasms wide, 
To invite the entrance of the tide ; — 
Like thirsty mouths each monstrous gap, 
Where sultry earth her full might lap, 
And in the calid rage of thirst, 
Drink, aye — until her bowels burst. 
The fiend accurst — the horrid slave, 

Implacable, to immolate 

A peopled land to private hate, 
Thus planned a lovely country's grave — 
Where souls were to be immured alive, 
Where babes and women were to strive, 
And vainly striye — and gasp for life — 
Struggle — as with th' assassin's knife. — 

Oft ambush'd on the hill stood he, 
To watch the ruin of that land, 
By him made water, stone, and sand — 

The land beneath the sea. 
That vale admired, loved, and valued, 
Cymru's boast — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
So sudden from existence sunder'd, 
The lovely verdant Lowland Hundred. 

Many a night the moon revolved, 

Since first their work the villains delved, 



Canto I. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. S3 

And the jagg'd bastion of the land 

With loose earth filled, each morn, and sand, 

At night removing it again, 

Inviting in old Ocean's reign ; — 

At length a night of storm arose, 

A night of desolating woes, 

A night in Ruin's calendar, 

Well fraught with hell's successful Avar, 

Whose horrors, lips of truth most strict 

Ne'er adequately could depict — 

A night so dread — no bardic tongue 

So eloquent has said or sung — 

A night, when daemons from their hell 

Broke loose, and raised o'er earth their yell ; 

By havoc led, resolved to blot 

From Nature's face her sweetest spot. 

Oft on the hill Seithenyn sate, 
The ingress of the flood to wait ; 
But now with many a villain mate 
He sought the breach to machinate, 
And imprecate the powers of ruin, 
Even while the storm was brewing. 

In early part, clear shone the night, 
Luna paced th' etherial height 
In gentleness and stilly grace, 
While lovely looked her silent face ; 
And her innumerable train 
All sparkled, pleased beneath her reign, 
Like smiling eyes, light hearts revealing, 
And that bright calm of hearted feeling — 

F 



34 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto J. 

That clear serenity of scope 

Which gild the hours of youthful hope. 

As when coarse ribald warriors rude 

Among the valley's nymphs intrude, 

A gloom cast on their sunshine hour, 

And seek to clasp them in their bower, 

While each with screaming terror flies, 

With ruffled look and tearful eyes ; 

So when the sable clouds of storm 

Began the face of Heaven deform, 

The nymphs of brilliance left the sky, 

Mixed with the winds their wailing cry, 

Though ever and anon their queen 

Peeped forth, storm's ranks of war between. 

'Twas told Seithenyn — "Lo, at last 

Behold, the sky is overcast, 

The growing winds and swelling sea 

Now augur tempests soon to be." 

But in the surliness of pride, 

Derisively the prince replied, 

" Such omens have before deceived, 

No portends henceforth be believed." 

" But see — like warriors in their pride, 

With rapid march the dark clouds stride, 

Till halting, rank in war array — 

Lo, moon and stars retreat away ; — 

And then afar loud screams are heard 

Of many a wild aquatic bird." 

But in the surliness of pride, 

Still thus the haughty prince replied, 

" Such Omens have before deceived, 

No portents henceforth be believed." 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 35 



"But listen — lo the Sea-mew's shriek ! 

See — flocks of gulls with rav'ning beak — 

On pinions of the rising breeze, 

Landward hasten from the seas — ■ 

And in this valley all alight, 

Oh this will prove a woeful night." 

But in the surliness of pride, 

Still thus the haughty prince replied, 

" Such omens have before deceived, 

No portents henceforth be believed." 

Incautious grown he'd sit and flout, 

And deal his largess round about, 

The powerful much-fermented draught, 

And many a potent cup they quaffed; 

Beside their lord upon the shore, 

At length they slept — and woke no more! 

Fell homicides ! with curst Seithenyn, 

The drunkard son of Dyfed's brenin : 

The framers of this night of death, 

First to its power yielded breath ; 

All suffocated in their drink, — 

E'en now they float — anon they sink— 

Die ! — for ever and ever die ! 

Or live for aye to infamy. 

Lo ! foaming now with anger fierce, 

Man's element the waters pierce, 

And dint usurpingly, 
Impugning all that lovely land, 
Since changed to water, stone, and sand, 

A Land beneath the Sea — 
A Country by the water swallow'd, 
That beauteous land — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 



36 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

So sudden from existence sunder'd, 

That gem of vales — the Lowland Hundred. 

Impelled by blust'ring Tempest, wrath 

Old Ocean forced herself a path, 

On, hurtling with impetus strong, 

Wave after wave with power along — 

Each chasm forcing into one, 

All in a rapid conflux run, 

Soon of th' embankments there were none, — 

But all dissolved had ceased to be, 

The vale's incanton'd with the sea ! 

Lashed by the tempest's smiting brand, . 

The writhing waters rush to land, 

To hide them from its fury, — woe 

Still follows on, where'er they flow ; 

The wolf — the badger — and their kind, 

Who subterraneously had mined 

Through earth's innumerable pores, 

Heard Ocean's march beyond the shores, 

And felt soon on their furry hide, 

The trickling waters — fear their guide, 

All might, they strive to burrow deeper, 

But their unrelenting steeper, 

The frantic refuge-seeking wave, 

Possess and drive them from the cave ; 

Vain buffetting with wild despair, 

Up rush the beasts — but meet their foe 
With mighty force that smites them low— 

They gasp and perish in their lair. — 

Now, in the wildness of the hour, 

Down topples many a lofty tower, 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 37 



The waters force the mansion wall, 
That quick doth on its inmates fall. 
Who thoughtless of th' usurping sea, 
Still slept in peace insensibly ; — 
Many a maid in nature's pride, 
The previous day was made a bride ; 
Many a youth his wedded love, 
Clasped in his arms, all fears above, — 
Ah little dreamt they of the blight 
Thus cast upon their bridal night ! — 
Some houses isolated stood 
Half buried in the battling flood, 
The billows brunt, behind, in front, 

Coacervate in power, 
Beam, rafter, wall, together fall, 
Men, women, children, creatures — all, 

Oft crushed beneath the shower ! 
Oh God ! it was a madd'ning sight, 
A horrid marvel-making night ! 
Those who lived further from the sea, 
With such strange shocks roused suddenly, 

And drowning cattle's roar, 
Would straight immerge into the surge, 

And some would reach the shore — 
(The new-made shore — the rising ground 
That late did form the valley's bound.) 
Some in the vast circumfluent stream, 
Now wakened — wild — thought it a dream, 

And sunk, but rose no more ; 
Oh woeful did the female shriek, 
From hundreds in the water speak, 

To manhood's aching breast ; 



->o LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto T. 

More piteous still, the infant shrill, 
In fainter echoes from the hill, 

By death to anguish pressed ; — 
The cattle's moan, the human groan, 

Wafted on the winds afar, 
Now fainter grew; — save some stout few, 
None buffet waves, of suffering's crew, 

Mid'st the elemental war. 
The vale hath ceased to be — 
Remains there none of that fair land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea. — 
The vale for nature's beauties hallow'd, 
The traveler's charm, Cantrevy Gwaelod — 
So sudden from existence sunder'd, 
Cambria gem — the Lowland Hundred. 

Those who the tempest's force withstood, 

Full many a bitter hour, 
Were seen to grasp the floating wood, 

With all their strength and power, 
Tilt seaward carried by the tide, 
There perish'd on the ocean wide, 
The last lorn victims of its anger, 
Crushed with fatigue, and cold, and hunger. — 
Some on the tops of highest trees, 
Were seen half covered by the seas, 
Their arms — their hands — like close-drawn bands, 

Clung round and gript an eager hold, 
Th' embrace of life, thus man in strife, 

Will clutch and drop both gear and gold, 
That knot— which fear of death had tied. 
Not e'en the billows could divide — 



Canto I. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

Though weak — half famished — and inane 

In ruin, sorrow, and in pain ; — 

The sinews to their utmost stretched, 

Their hold with eager frenzy catched, 

Nor would forego, though algor keen 

Its icy axe did intervene 

To cut the tendon of that clasp, 

The hug to life — the cling — the grasp — 

To slacken and give up for prey, 

To death, the daemon of the day — 

But numbed, at last, did many fall, 

Some died — yet clutched their hold withal. 

Their coracles did others reach, 9 

And landed on the new-made beach ; 

The hill's foot — succoured by the crowd ; 

Some speechless moped, some wept aloud, 

Their perished all — of kin and kind ; — 

And what sways much the human mind, 

Their worldly thrift — that soon and late, 

'Twas theirs with toil to aggregate.— 

Aye — e'en in such a blighted hour, 

Such reflections have their power ; 

And minds there be, that know no pain, 

Save that which mars to hoard again, — 

Cold beings, who a corse have stript, 

And in its garb themselves equipt, 

Or sold at high and rarest rate, 

That wrapt a kinsman's form but late — 

Who in parsimonious thirst, 

The cearments of the dead have burst, 

And from a wife or mother's ear, 

Remorselessly the gem durst tear. — 



40 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I, 

Exhausted in the sea and storm. 

Half dead was many a pallid form, 

And who recover'd but to learn, 

Their destitution — and the stern. 

The strange wild fate that made them friendless, 

Calamities extreme as endless ! 

Enless ? no — th' acutest grief 

Was in duration far most brief — 

The fate of those most loved, but spoken, 

A pang succeeds — the heart is broken. 

And there was many a lifeless frame, 

With shattered limbs, and smeared with gore, 
Thrown by the surge upon the shore, 

With no surviving friends to claim, — 

So changed, so mutilated — few, 

Or none the altered likeness knew. 

Some by the ebbing tide were driven, 

To many a distant bay and haven, 

Where then perforce they made a stop — 

Some settled on Eryri's top, 10 

A dreary harsh and fruitless land, 

Black-soiled and stony — grassless sand — 

With desolation cover'd o'er, 

Where tarrience ne'er made man before. — 

Oh 'twas a sight the soul to freeze 

Of those sad ruin'd refugees, 

Whose youth was spent in that same vale 

Where Plenty reigned, midst breezes hale : — 

So hard and drear, harsh and severe, 

Wild, gaunt, gigantic, and austere, 

Appear'd the world — a wilderness — 



Canto J. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 41 



To Adam's train who wept in vain, \ 
(The primal family of Pain) > 

Who looked again— and aye again, J 

Towards Eden in distress. 
And these — no Paradise see they. 
Before them rocks and briars lay, 
Dry deadly earth or rotting marsh, 
Curst scenes to contemplation harsh — 
Deep forests— dark, and thick, and wild, 
Where cheerful sun-beam never smiled, 
Within whose shades fell beasts of blood 
Fierce howling fought and killed for food ; — 
And they had music sorrowful. 
The howl of storm, the shriek of gull, 
The cry of drowning wretches — they 
Then thought upon the rueful day 

When Ruin leaped with glee, 
And drove them from their lovely .land, 
Then changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea — 
That Eden of the Britons ! — yellowed 
With ripened corn — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
The trav'ller paused, well pleased and wondered, 
To mark the blooming Lowland Hundred. 

But I, unskilled to tell the tale, 
Have wandered from the drowning vale, 
Where 'from adjacent hill and glen, 
Roused by the storm came many men, 
There gathered to behold the sight, 
And aid the suff'rers of the night, — 



42 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

For they amidst a deaf 'ning squall, 

Heard mystic human cries withal 

Mixed with the winds — like men's distress 

Beset with wolves in the wilderness. — 

And chilled was many a breast of valour, 

To hear such hearted yells of dolour. 

Conspicuous midst the gazing throng 

That lined the hill's vast side along, 

In sorrow pond'ring o'er the flood 

The king of Ceredigion stood, 

The heart-torn Gwyddno Garanhir, 

Who saw, distracted, disappear, 

Many a village, many a town, 

Fair tract and city of renown, 

The gems of all his proud domain, 

His people scattered o'er the main ; — 

Oh there be sighs of many a kind, 

The troubled heart's tempestuous wind ; 

The sigh of love, the sigh of care, 

The sigh of thought for those that were, 

And aye for every bitterness, 

At visiting of each distress ; — 

But ne'er was sigh so fraught with woe, 

For Fortune's spite and direst blow, 

As that which Gwyddno's soul unmann'd, 

While sighed he o'er his floated land. 11 

There Elfin too, his son, was seen 

With chief of bards Taliesin, 

They marked the Country lose each feature, 

Its pride of art its bloom of nature — 

Its generations clearly traced 

To ancient days — swept in the waste— 



Canto J. 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 43 



All perished — save its name — ■ 
And that shall live, aye, live forever ! 
From its sovereign what shall sever 

The Lowland Hundred's fame ? 
Not even Time; — the mighty crime, 
In grandeur of the dark sublime, 

Shall live, that swept it from the world ; 
And Pity's tears, in future years. 

May fall for those to ruin hurled, — 
May weep these elemental slaughters 
And lovely land beneath the waters. 
Its bardic king his loss did sing, l 

And touched his harp's most woeful string > 
As 'twere a nerve that pain did wring, y 

Till notes acute it thrilled of anguish, 
And then anon it breathed a tone 

That seemed to pant and languish, 
As if it caught the very cry 
Of horrid drowing agony. 

His theme — it should not die — 
Could Poesy to Fancy's view, 
The hideous ruin still renew, 

And beauty vivify ; 
Though human optics nought can see 
Of this same beauteous drowning" land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea — 
By shades of death now gloomed and sallow'd, 
The gem of vales, Cantrev y Gwaelod, 
So sudden from existence sunder'd. 
The fair and fertile Lowland Hundred. 



44 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto I. 

The desolation wildly great ! 
Was now most terribly complete — 
The howling winds forbore to press, 
The ocean's roar waxed less and less ; 
As if appeased, at length its rigour, 
Or as if maimed in nerve and vigour, 
The pausing waves with heavy swell 
Against the hill still weakening fell; — 
E'en thus — as if fatigued with smiting, 
And with the unresisting righting, 
The storm no more the ocean lashed, 
The sea no more its fury dashed, 
But like some mighty conqueror, 
Now rested from the cares of war ; — 
Until at last nor wind nor sea 
In motion could men hear or see ; — 
A calm — an awful calm succeeds — 
The sun looked forth on Ruin's deeds — 
Gleamed on the sea most fearfully, 

That back reflects its gloss again, 
A smile most drear, and void of cheer, 

And fraught with inward pain ; — 
So shines it on the warrior's steel 

Full coldly as on wintry snow, 
That plates a breast that cannot feel 

Its influence, its gentle glow — 
Though on its surface placid smiles — 
Beneath — the deadly heart of wiles. — 

That sun — well might its brilliance deaden, 
And quick recede from scenes so leaden — 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 45 



As changes man by suffering's force, 

To view his loved one's perished corse — 

Hers — that in his heart he cherished, 

To mark her pulseless — cold — and perished 

It set upon a beauteous land — 

It rose — upon an aqueous strand, 

Whose surge rolled over thousands — they 

Were joyous, fearless, yesterday. — 

The businesses of life pursued, 

Well cheared by hope's beatitude, 

But now — what are they now? — the wave 

111 veils the secrets of their grave — 

Vast shoals of scaly brood now hem 

And prey on those who preyed on them. — 

It set upon a land of bloom, 

Where all was stir, and life, and breath, - 
And rose upon a country's tomb, 

Where rotted all in death. — 
And yet, the new-born day was bright, 
The sun shone on the ruinous blight, 
With awful calmness — seemed to sooth, 
With placid smile the waters smooth, 
Though now and then the surface bubbled, 
As if beneath, some spirit troubled, 
That had outlived the wretched host, 
Now conquered, yielded up the ghost." 

So closed his tale the blind old man, 
Expression through his features ran, 
As on the mournful theme he dwelt, 
That proved he deeply thought and felt. — 



46 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

Though not a ray his eyes could see, 

I owned in sight he mastered me, 

For eyes from him that day I borrowed, 

And saw, and felt like him, and sorrowed ; — 

His little boy returned from play, 

With rosy cheeks and features gay, 

Chattering his mirthful pranks, 

With playmates on the meads and banks ; — 

The old man pats his cheek and head, 

As homeward by the lad he's led : - — 

I parted with him on the spot, 

And he shall never be forgot. 

His tale is dear to me, 
Oft think I of the lovely Land, 
Now changed to water, stone, and sand, 

The Land beneath the Sea, — 
The Country ancient song hath hallow'd, 
Once gem of vales — Cantrev y Gwaelod — 
So sudden from existence sunder'd, 
The fair and fertile Lowland Hundred. 

An ancient dame in cloak of grey, 
Intercepted now my way, 
And spoke me in a mournful tone — 
I thought upon the chilling moan, 
That o'er a ruin vents the storm ; — 
It was a tall, spare, bony form ; 
She was enmuffled to the eyes, 
And heaved she frequent heavy sighs : 
She questioned of the old man's fate, 
If rich or poor, or mean or great — 



Canto I. 



Canto I. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 47 



" Say, is he poor ? doth he endure 

Life-wasting pangs of poverty ? 

For other grief, alas, relief, 

'Tis vain to seek of me : 

There I would better him," quoth she, 

" If I could do it secretly, 

A kindly but incautious will 

Miffht nerve the cares it meant to kill." 

" I know not of that old man's state, 

If rich or poor, or mean or great," 

Said I, and wondered as she spoke ; — 

" Enough !" she cried, and from me broke, 

With mystic suddenness abrupt, 

That terror seemed to interrupt, — 

I wondered at her sudden flight, 

And watched her grey cloak out of sight : 

What could she be ? and what was he. 

The man who told this tale to me ? — 

Well, peace to him at least ! whoe'er, 

By day and night: — as much to her ! 

If good, why, heaven speed her ; 

And take ye this, all men, from me, 

If learn I either's mystery, 

I'll tell it to the reader. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



CANTO II. 



THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA 



CANTO II. 



I Passed through the land and changed the scene, 

From the Country lost, and wild sea coast, 

To mountains brown and vallies green ; — 

From the savage tempestuous main, 

To woodland dell, to river and well, 

To cornfield, mead, and plain : 

And dear to mine eye, oh loved ever and ever ! 

The sweet inland landscape of wild-wood and river. 

There is a beauty 'tis true, tis true, 

In the magnificent wild sea view, 

When Ocean and Earth appear not friends, 

When one assaults, and the other defends ; — 

When standing on promontory high, 

With sea and land at once in mine eye, 

With the sky o'er my head, it doth seem to me, 

I stand on the confines of kingdoms three, 

And each an element — each a world — 

The war-bolts of either while furiously hurled, 



52 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



Canto II. 



Save Earth, who presents alone a shield— 

Her rocks, to preserve the peaceful field ; 

A noble emblem of righteous war ! 

But oh ! when the fierce usurping sea 

O'erleaps her ancient boundary, 

Disdaining the ridges of Nature's bar, 

'Tis wild to think — 'tis terrific to see : 

Then hail to ye, fair scenes, loved ever and ever ! 

The sweet inland landscape of woodland and river. 

Oh blest are ye, of vales afar, 

Unknown to elemental war — • 

Who talk about the distant sea, 

As if ye doubted such could be, 

And wonder if the war-ship large 

Be thrice so as the canal barge ; 

And then enquire of her trim, 

And marvel how such large things swim. — 

Oh blest are ye far from the shore, 

Where billows lash, and breakers roar, 

Ye hear them not, nor do ye see, 

And ye are from their terrors free — 

They cannot o'er your mountains break, 

And fill your vale, till grown a lake, 

And every dingle thence a creek, 

Wild Ocean's victory to speak. 

Tis strange to think, but proved to be, 

Had people never known or wondered, 
Of the land beneath the sea, 

The once proud Lowland Hundred — 
'Tis strange to think how many lands 
Are now but Ocean's dregs — her sands : — 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 53 



Where flocks have grazed the green hill's side, 
Now anchored vessels sheltered ride — 
Where roll those waters, there have been 
The gambols of the village green — 
The wedding-day hath there been kept, 
A merry time ! the bidder's rhyme, 12 
The quintain sport, 13 the church bell chime. 
And there the bride and bridegroom slept ; 
And there were harps, and songs, and jokes, 
And young and old gay happy folks — 
E'en such, but safe in mirth be ye, 
Who dwell in vales far from the sea. 

I passed o'er the land and changed the scene. 
From the Country lost, and wild sea coast, * 

To mountains and vallies green : 
'Tis vain to tell that valley's name, 
Unto a village unknown to fame, 
One summer's morn mid scent of thorn, 
Wild nature's fragrance ! somewhat worn 

With travel, once I came : 
I stood upon the village ground, 
And like a stranger looked around. 

The mid-day sun is in a blaze, 
Till gradual and shy, o'er the lower sky 
Spreads slow the veiling haze ; 
Heat from above, heat from beneath, 
The very earth breathed sultry breath, 
And all did sigh for breezes sweet, 
To repel the suffocating heat, 
Enough the brain to craze. 



54 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

Deeper and deeper grew the haze, 
Veiling the blue sky from the gaze ; 
And summer clouds of silver white, 
Gayly attinged with colours bright, 

Are growing somewhat dun, — 
That haze will chasten excessive light, 

And screen the burning sun. 

Beside me stood a beauteous boy, 
With sightless eyes bent on the skies, 

And face of vivid joy : 
a Ha, ha !" laughed he, u now who but me 
Can see the hands that weave the haze ? 
Their shuttle, a star, flies to a fro, 
Like a shooting meteor's glow, 
That merry spirits from east to west, 
As children their toys in joys and jest, 

To one another throw : 
Ha, ha !" laughed he, a now who but me, 

Can see the texture grow ?" 
(I looked with struck amaze.) 
a Oh bright to me, what others see 

As darkening that deform, 
I'll go and enjoy what others anoy, 

The coming thunder-storm." 
So said the sweet-faced strange blind boy, 
And ran to the village bridge with joy. 

Darker and darker grew the haze, 
The sheep and cattle cease to graze. 
The heavy ox looks, searching round, 
With wise instinctive gaze ; 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 55 



Like a grave ill-featured sage, 
Yet wisest of his kind and age ; — 
From the hills the hurried flock 
Seek the hedge, the tree, or rock, 

But he with uncouth speed ; 
While with a frisky galloping bound 

The wild unbroken steed ; 
The shelt'ring cows vent mournful lows, 
The wild-birds, silent, couch in boughs, 

While triumphs each palmipede. 
Men, women, children leave their work, 
Sledge and hay-rake, scythe and fork, 
From meadows, fields, and gardens go, 
Doffing pickaxe, spade, or hoe ; 
Some seek the village alehouse, 
Some, romping move, with girls they love, 
Most blessed of happy fellows, 
They gladly snatch their transient leisure, 
E'en such scanty storm-bought pleasure, — 
Some seek their cottage home or farm, 
All fly the coming thunder-storm* 

Last winter a storm blew down a yew, 
'Tis now a bridge at Rhyd-y-Brew, 
The flood and blast, bore off the last, 

But stouter is the new; 
And straight it lies from bank to bank, 
They've planed its surface like a plank, 
And for an yew 'tis somewhat wide, 
'Tis nail'd upon the southern side, 
Wicker-worked with willows green. 
Basket-like, each rail between, 

And it is rough, but flat. 



56 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

The blind-boy stands upon the bridge 
That lies on rocks from ridge to ridge, 

Across the river fair ; 
His back against the wicker hedge — 

What should he do there — > 
That sightless boy without a hat, 

With sun-bright yellow hair ? 

Now darker and darker grows the sky. 

The distant thunder is heard on high, 

Housed are all the village strain, 

Nor horse nor ox graze mead or plain, 

And not a sheep is on the down, 

For deeper and deeper the welkin's frown ; 

But still that boy is there, 
Delighted, standing on the bridge, 
His back supported by the hedge, 
While in the air like gold-threads rare, 
Wave o'er his shoulders the sun-bright hair. 
Now deep black clouds their forms reveal, 
And loudly rolls the thunder peal, 
The storm grows wild, and loud, and high, 
The light'ning flashes like a glance, 
Blazed from a spirit's eye ; 
Oft in terror, will start and prance 
The wild young steed with flowing mane, 
Frighted from the shelt'ring hedge, 

He scours o'er the plain : 
Some think he sees on the upland ridge, 

The frowning spirits of bane — 
And still the boy is on the bridge. — 
I could not choose but gaze and wonder, 
To mark his rapture midst the thunder, 



Canto II. 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 57 



And the peals that others frighten, 
His face of beauty seemed to brighten, 

For admiration was pictured there, 
Of faculties most deep to please, 

Most lovely, bright, and rare ; 
'Twas sweet to see how sweet he smiled, 
That strange enthusiastic child, 

With upturned face so fair ; 
Handsome as ever heart beguiled, 

While flows his sun-bright hair. 
Loud and louder the thunder rolls, 
A heavy heavy shower falls, 
Many a sweet and light stemmed flower, 
Is beaten to earth by that ruthless shower ; 
E'en as calamity's fell force, 
Strikes many a gentle-one a corse ; 
The swelling stream grows deeply red, 
As on its banks a thousand bled ; 
And on the bridge drenched to the skin, 
Still that beauteous boy is seen : 
Handicrafts and^husbandmen, 
Are crowded in the village inn ; 
That alehouse hath a window bowed, 
And there I sat me from the crowd : 
That window looked o'er prospects rare — 
River, mead, and distant hill, 
Right picturesque the white wind-mill, 
And abbey arches awful showed, 
Darkening the height of Pen-y-coed, 

Mid trees that high heads rear ; 
Yet on the bridge my gaze was still, 

For still the boy is there — 



58 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

Upward gazing on the sky, 

With face so sweetly fair; 
And I did question many why, 
Now that storms are rude and high, 
That little boy is there — 
That pretty boy without a hat, 
With sun-bright yellow hair. 

Quoth Blany Lloyd, the landlady, 

" To us that boy's a wonder, 
'Tis now four years ago, since he 

Was stricken blind midst thunder, 
E'en on the spot where now so rash, 
He seems to court the lightning flash : 
And none can homeward bring the child, 
'T would fret his heart and drive him wild. 
He sees a marvel in the storm, 

No other eye can see— 
And doubtless marks the spirit form, 

That taught him minstrelsy ; — 
Perhaps he sees his mother sweet, 

Who heart-broke, died so young— 
Perhaps her spirit comes to greet, 

Her boy in mystic tongue : 
For my part, when he seems so glad, 
I look with fear, and think him mad." 

Quoth Griffith, Gruff in accents rough, 

"That boy's an imp of evil, 
Or what should he do out at night, 
When clear the moon, and stars are bright ? 

He consorts with the devil ! 



Canto II. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 59 

Or rides with witches on the broom ; 
You say you lock him in his room, 
Yet spite of bolt, or bar, or lock, 
He disappears — his wild harp cheers 
You all, when crows the cock ; 
And then to him you ope the door, 
That fast you find as 'twas before. — 

Though he's so mild and civil, 
I care not what I think or say, 
To me 'tis clear as light of day, 

He consorts with the devil." 



"Not he indeed!" cries Walter Mead, 

" To say so, speaketh spite, 
For if with spirits he deals at all, 
They be not those that dark we call, 

But gentle spirits of light : 
Howbeit, I own 'tis very strange, 
That he should o'er the country range, 

Alone, at dead of night ; 
But my opinion's e'en like Mary's, 
As, since a child, his life was wild, 
And he loves the moonshine bright. 
He joins the ring of fairies, 
And dances away the night. 



Old Goody Evans of Trecastle, 

Was bedrid ill for many a day, 

She seemed with death himself to wrestle 
And shrieked with wild dismay ; 

He said, " I'll never get to heaven ! 

For on my bed-post, lo ! a raven, 



60 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



Canto II. 



Still perches every day, 
And there he croaks — be kind good folks, 

Oh drive the bird away !" 
We looked around, but nothing found, 

Yet wildly would she say, 
u Oh there he croaks — be kind good folks, 

And drive the fiend away!". 
We thougth her bewitched, for loud she screeched 

For many a night and day, 
And cried, distressed, " I cannot rest, 
That evil bird lies on my breast, 

Oh drive the raven away !" 
While thus she said, sweet music played, 
A sudden soft air, that wonder made, 
She stretched an anxious enquiring ear — 
'Twas wondrous sweet and strange — not loud — 
It might be an angel's, from a cloud, 
That sung the earth to cheer, 
Or give sweet rest to the possessed 
Of evil spirits that molest 

With agony severe, 
And drive them from the tortured soul, 

By high command, in fear; — 
However, her pains no more controul, 

Nor shrieks our nerves annoy : 
Her anguish sore was now no more, 

Her sorrow changed to joy ; 
She was so thankful for relief, 
Her gratitude was e'en like grief, 
Quick tears did rain her cheeks adowii, 
As on her knees she cried, " disease 

Hath sudden from me flown ! 



Canto II. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 61 

Oh run and see who this may be, 

Who strangely sweeps the strings, 
Oh run and see who he may be 

So wild and sweetly sings ! 
The moment he harped and begun his lay, 
Sweet Heaven, in love, sent here a dove 

That dove the raven away : — 
It uttered a screech like a tortured witch- 
Call in that minstrel I beseech ! 

For I can boldly say, 
One of the gifted ones is he, 
A self-taught son of minstrelsy. 
Whom goodly spirits wait upon; 
I know he is a wondrous one ! 
And blest be they, asleep or awake, 
To pleasure him who pleasure take ! 
All health be theirs, soul, frame, and limb. 
Who take delight in delighting him, 

Be theirs life's best charm ! 
Accursed they, be who they may, 

Who render that minstrel harm : 
I know he is a wondrous one, 
Whom goodly spirits wait upon !" 

I went to see who it might be 

Who cured the woman's ailing — • 
I went to see who it might be 

So sweetly swept the telyn* — 
When who should it be, but even he, 

Our wondrous blind-boy Celin. 

* Tclyn is the Welsh word for harp. 



62 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

Then Mary Lloyd, a brown-faced maid 5 
Her mother's first, spoke out and said, 
u However singular and odd 
The ways of Celin, ye wrong forbode, 
I'm sure if one of earth can be 
Loved of Heaven, such is he ! — 
And shameful 'tis, such speeches rude 

Should slur th' afflicted boy, 
Afflicted ? no ! that youngster good, 

His blindness is his joy : 
When he fell blind, his eyes of mind 

Were opened to mystic wonders, 
And on the bridge the youth we find, 

Whenever it lightens and thunders ; 
And there he gazes on the sky, 

With face of expression rare, 
While sweetly rolls each lightless eye, 

His head the while is bare ; 
'Tis beautiful to see the sight. 
How he enjoys his day in night ! 
While waves in air, o'er forehead fair, 
His sun-bright yellow hair." 

There is a story told by him, 
He saw his mother in a dream, 
His mother who had died so young, 
Most handsome far the girls among — 
She had, like him, gay tresses rare, 
Golden, sun-bright, yellow hair ; 
And she was as a poplar strait, 
Light of foot, and fair of gait, 
Of such a mild soft angel smile, 
When she spoke, spite died the while ; 



Canto II. 



Canto II. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

And she did utter words to him, 

Words of wonder in a dream, 

But what their import were, 

He must not tell, save to a dell 

He must at night repair ; 

All in the middle of the night, 

When beams the moon, and stars are bright, 

And wild beasts leave their lair ; 
E'en there he went, but the event, 

No human ear may share; — 
Bat many think (and with terror shrink) 

He meets her spirit there, 
His mother who had died so young, 

With sun-bright yellow hair. 

Said Mary, " mother tell the tale, 

For you can tell it better than me, 
How came his mother to this vale, 
With one who wronged her to prevail, 

How learnt he minstrelsy : — 
People mock me when I cry, 
But I can never tell that story well, 

The tear starts in my eye, 
My voice is broke, I almost choke, 

And yet I know not why, — 
I scarce can speak, I know 'tis weak, 

And foolish, so to cry : 
But she was sweet to look upon ! 
So an gel-like — she might be one 
Come from the skies with scant disguise : — 
And then this boy, her son — 
He seems not like to other boys — . 
His joys are not like their joys, 



64 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

Dark, compared to his, each mind, v 
But Celin's light itself, though blind ; — 
They seek the noon, but he the moon, 

They play when shines the sun, 
But he at night when stars are bright, 

And laugh the lake upon ; — 
They doff their clothes and seek repose. 

When he o'er the wilds is gone. — 
They fly in doors with fear and wonder, 

And seek the fire-side warm, 
When bursts the lightning and thunder, 

But Celin seeks the storm, 
And there he gazes while light'ning blazes, 

With face of expression rare, 
He looks not blind, so light his mind ! 
And like a clear flame in the wind, 

Floats rich his yellow hair." 
Quoth Blany Lloyd, the Landlady, 
" The tale will be ill told by me, 

Howsoe'er I'll do my best : 
'Tis now some eighteen years or so, 
But let me see — its eighteen ? — no — 
'Tis seventeen years the third of May, 
I well remember, a sun-shine day, — 

I had my last child at the breast ; 
Yes, 'twas seventeen years ago, 
As our Bible leaf will shew ; 
I was sitting by the door, 
When a stranger passed before, 
The prettiest girl I ever saw, 
No painter such a one could draw ! 
I'm sure it would the cleverest pose, 
To picture cheeks so fair as those, 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 65 



For I've of limners known a few, 
Who often travel the country o'er, 

And all surpassed the face they drew, 
False flattery, the fault of all, 
That better pleased th' original. 
But she, as I just said before, 
The stranger girl who passed our door, 
No painter could in such fault err, 
I never saw the like of her ! 
E'en Tim the Smith, so deaf and dull, 
Stopped, and let his iron cool, 

When she was passing by his shop ; 
I never saw old Tim before 

For any passing stop : 
I really think if king and queen, 

With crowns of gold upon their heads, 
To pass that blacksmith's shop were seen, 
Tim scarce would leave off hammering ; 

But when she passed his sheds, 
He gaped, and gaped, like moon-struck fool, 
She was so very beautiful ! 

" Oh she was fair as fair could be ! 
Her skin was like transparency ; 
Her eyes of blue, their glances flew, 
As if they looked for somebody : 
The softest tinge of wild-rose red, 
Upon the softest white was spread, 
And then her ringlets, sweet and rare, 
Oh lovely looked her sun-bright hair ! 
She had a pretty gypsy hat, 
I made our Mary one like that, 

K 



66 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

But though I made it well to fit, 
She looked just like an owl in it, 
For gypsy hats become not all ; 
This pretty girl had features small, 
And, aye, so animated too, 
Her very soul did seem to shew : 
With tread so light, in frock of white, 
She took a shy and searching view 
As she passed the village through : 

Her face was sad and wild ; 
I wished to ask her who, or what 
She wanted here, but I thought that 
Would seem like harsh and impudent ; 
So by our door, so shy she went, 

She seemed a very child, 
But better born and bred than we ; 
Her dress was what we often see 
A parson's daughter's Sunday dress, 
Before they frilled to such excess.— 
A gust aside her straw-hat threw, 
('Twas tied with ribbon of palest blue,) 
Aye, then I saw the sweetest face, 
That gypsy hat did ever grace ; 

So, as I said, she looked so shy, 
And like one of the gentlefolks, 
Wrapt in their sort of mantle cloaks, 

I let her pass me by, 
Else I had asked the stranger sweet, 
To step in doors to rest and eat. 

" When she had reached the other end, 
This row," thought I, " She has no friend, 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 67 



Perhaps, to give her meat or drink ; 
And she has walked in mid-day heat, 

I'll run and call her back I think — 
She cannot take it ill of me, 
Rich or poor, whiche'er she be ; 
I feel a pity for the child, 
She looks so sad, so sweet, and wild. 

" I called our parish prentice Jack, 
And soon he brought the fair one back ; 
Her grateful tears a torrent flowed, 
For kindliness, she said, I shewed : 
e Alas !' cried she, in saddest strain, 
c I never thought that kindliness 

Would draw my tears again ! 
Fatigue and hunger on me press, 
But that is nothing — my distress, 

A heart that aches in vain : 
Yet I am much by travel worn — 
Oh I am, — I am — most forlorn.' 
And then her tears fell fast again, 
I wept in pity of her pain. 

u 6 And who,' said I, 6 is it you seek ?' 
She sobbed — her heart was like to break - 

She could n't make reply ; — 
Where d'ye come from ? whither go ? 
'I must n't tell — I do not know' — 

Was all that she would say ! 
Again I asked her whence she came, 
At length she said with downcast shame, 

€ From valleys far away :' 



68 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

But never from her could I trace 

The secret of her native place ; 

She always said, with bashful shame, 

£ From valleys far away.' 
The tender thing, so sad and meek, 
She sobbed — her heart was like to break 
And she became so very ill, 
I welcomed her to stay here still; 
She knew not where, poor child, to go. 
With sobs and sighs, she told me so, 
And vowed she'd never homeward stray, 
To her dear valleys far away : 
I soothed her grief with kindest tone. 
For I had children of my own ; 
And where's the mother that can say, 
But e'en her best brought-up may stray ; 

I thought if mine should ever err, 
Perhaps some pity might be shewn, 

For pity shewn to her. 

" I soothed her grief with kindest tone, 
I tended her e'en like my own, 
And in my arms, poor girl, she slept, 
Sadly wailed and nightly wept ; 

And here she staid for many a day, 
At length with many a sigh and moan, 

Thus did the sweet one say. — 

" 6 Within the valleys far away, 
Where my father's acres lay, 
There is a glade of many a rood, 
Amid a vast and ancient wood ; 



Canto II. 



Canto II' 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 69 



And in the middle of that glade, 

There is a lake — a beauteous one, 

As ever reflected moon or sun ; 

There throng at eve fond youth and maid, 

Upon the lake or round the glade ; 

For there be walks and coracles, 

And there be bowers by lovers made ; 
The peasant child the filbert pulls. 
While angle some in coracles, 

Paired lovers seek the shade ; 
Oh guiltless is the peasant child, 
Who seeks brown nuts and berries wild, 
But anglers cruel sport pursue, 

And happy lovers often rue, 
For gentle words and tender eyes, 
Severe but truly, say the wise, 
Are 'oft the snares the treacher wears, 

To veil the heart untrue — 
Alas, I cannot choose but weep, 
While memory such hold will keep, 
Of scenes so sweet and hours so gay, 
Passed in the valleys far away. 
Ah me — those valleys far away ! 
My heart doth ache, as like to break, 

To think they're far away ; 
And I shall be of those forgot, 
Though many loved me on the spot, 

They now harsh words will say — 
But not untrue — and I shall rue 

That sweet glade many a day — 
The even throng, the bardic song, 
The dance upon the green, 



70 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

The friendly parties on the lake, 

When smooth as skies serene ; 
And yet the hearted plaints I make. 
Are not for thee — thou lovely lake ! 
Nor lawny green, nor fragrant shade, 
Nor all the beauties of the glade ; 
But, why burn my cheeks with shame ? 
No ! voice shall never give it name : 
But 'tis for sunny hours gay, 
E'en like ye valleys — far away. 

" Oh come deep night, without thy light, 
Hence sounds and sights of day, 

Oh heavy hours ! — wherefore ache ? 

Break, my heart ! oh break thee ! break ! 

I ne'er shall see the like of ye, 

Oh hours gilded lovelily ! 
Oh vallies far away.' 

" Thus far she'd go, but here her woe 

Checked all she wished to say ; 

Her tale she dropt, and here she stopt 

For many a night and day ; 

And as she slept, she sighed and wept, 

Like burthen of a lay, 
Cried still, < Ye bowers ! ye rosy hours ! 

Ye valleys far away !' 
I asked her often for her tale, 
But no entreaties could prevail, 

For all that she could say, 
Was, c I shall rue the heart untrue, 
That sought my love, then falsely flew, 

The valleys far away.' 



Canto II. 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 71 



Once, as she thought herself alone, 
She made this wild and piteous moan, 
'Twas like the warbling of a bird, 

A lorn and melting wail, — 
As I have many an evening heard, 
Come from the nightingale ; 
But ne'er was heard from any bird, 

So wild, so lorn a wail. 

" c Alas, it was a cruel thing, 
The breast that loved it so to sting, 
My shame would break my father's heart, 
And so from home and him I part— 
Oh when he knows the tears I've shed, 
Oh when he knows that I am dead, 
My grey-haired father I believe, 
Oh yes, I'm sure he will forgive ! — - 
But then, no more will sweetly wave 
The violets on my mother's grave, 
Weeds will spring, and all go wild, 
And mad, like me — her ruined child ! 
Ah me!' she cried, with deep dismay, 
Thou of the valley far away ! 

" 'And who was he,' with a sudden stir, 
Cried I, and much I startled her, 
For like a frightened leveret, 
She trembled with terror and regret. 

But on my neck she sobbed a while, 
Then told a tale of one she met, 

Who used towards her guile. 



72 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



Canto IL 



ui 'Twas once at the hour of setting* sun, 

When all, save me, from the lake were gone. 

I gazed on the stream, and I thought of a dream, 

A vision of gay and beautiful sights, 

That thrice came over me, different nights : 

Ah me ! 'twere best to be drowned in the stream, 
Than see such a sweet, dear form of deceit, 

As I saw in ray trebled dream ! 

" ' Upon an arbour seat I sat, 

I thought of my dream, and nought but that, 

The day had been hot, and the breeze was weak ; 

The fragrance of flowers, the languid o'erpowers, 

And I felt of their sweetness sick ; 

There seemed in the air a faint-heard strain — 

'Twas wild, 'twas wondrous, 'twas very sweet ! 

My ears were dull, but my soul was awake, 

And did the deep-hearing music take 

To be bells of a city in heaven, 

That the sensitive ear of the soul can hear, 

When spirits unseen, but felt, are near, 

Their wings make the fannings of even ; 

I was entranced with the inward strain ! 
I fell asleep on the garden seat, 

And dreamed my dream again. 

" ' Methought a beautiful company 

Of the brightest beings that thought could see 

Beneath the moon, on the lake did float, 

Each pair had a sycamore leaf for a boat, 

'Twas pinched before, and 'twas pinched behind, 

With finger and thumb, to make sharp for the wind ; 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 13 



And to and fro then the zephyrs blew, 
While the sycamore boats in races flew, 
To wondrous sounds of minstrelsy, 
Oh all was lovely as thought could see ! 

" c Suddenly changed the minstrel strain, 
The sycamore boats were made flat again, 
And joined together like one green plat. 
In the midst of the moonlit lake ; 
When arm in arm, as in pleasure parade, 
Chatted and walked, fairy youth and maid, 

And each did his partner take ; 
They danced it in circles, in rows, and in pairs. 
To the liveliest, loveliest wondrous airs, 
On the green, mid the moonlit lake. 

" i 'Twas sweet to see the tiny things, 

So bright of garb and so small of size, 
But howsoever that might be 
Each seemed of perfect symmetry, 

With keen and piercing grasshopper's eyes, 
And vaulting with grasshopper's springs ; 
Sweet pleasure was bright in all their faces, 
And beauty of motion in all their paces ; 
Gay and merrily did they beat 
The sycamore carpet beneath their feet, 
And pleasing undulations played 
On the face of the lake whereon 'twas laid. 
The frocks of the fair were of flowers rare, 

(To name it, perhaps, is silly,) 
The simplest that grew, some of heath-bell blue, 

And some of the bells of a lilly ; 

L 



Canto II. 



74 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

The coats of the gallants were gay to eye, 
Of the wings of each varied butterfly. 



" ' There was a youth, among them all 
The noblest of the elfins small, 
And in my dreams my eyes followed him, 
When methought he grew wonderful tall ; 

He seemed a sweet-faced straight young man, 
And none did remain of the fairy train, 

But all was as it began ; 
Yet though the lake and dancers gay, 
And all of the vision passed away, 
Oh he was present to my eye, 
And I looked and looked and heard a sigh. 

" c Silent at length were the fairy strains, 

I woke with a touch that thrilled my veins ; 

The hand of the youth I saw, touched mine ! 

Methought, and the thrill was most divine ; 

My heart did leap, and I started from sleep — 

The stars were bright and the moon was new, 

I rubbed my eyes and homeward flew, 

For I was full of grief and fright, 

To think that I had been out at night, 

I never before had been even late ; 

When I came to my father's gate 

The mastiff barked, and I did fear 

My father and those of the house would hear, 

And so resolved till morning light 

To watch away the starry night. 

On tip-toe to the garden fair 

I went, and scarce did draw my breath, 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 75 



When — good heaven ! what saw I there ? 

The sight was like icy death — 
I saw a man ; — his back was to nie, 
And he looked to my window thoughtfully — 
I was trembling with fear and shame, 
He looked to my window and called me by name 
He heard my foot and turned him round, 
I saw his face — I screamed and swooned ; 
I know not what could make me scream, 

For it was he, that pleasured me, 
The youth I saw in my dream : 
He caught me — fainting — in his arms, 
Pray Heaven he did me no further harms. 

Ui I woke with the thrill of the kiss on my brow, 

And cried to think he caught me so ; 

I thought to run, but so it fell, 

The kiss on my brow was like a spell, 

I sat on the garden seat with him, 

And quite forgot about my dream ; 

If on my dream my thought had run, 

I might have feared him a fairy man : 

But the beam of his eye, I can't tell why, 

Disordered each thinking plan : 
But, pray Heaven, cried she with a sigh, 

He wasn't a fairy man, 

" < He said that he had loved me long, 
With tender thought and passion strong, 
And vowed that he had rather die, 
Than do or think me a wrong ; 

He said he bad seen me many a noon, 
But never before beneath the moon ; 



76 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



Canto II. 



Though many a night, when stars shone bright, 

And brighter the beauteous lune. 

He came to the garden for love of me, 

In hopes the face so loved to see ; 

And he looked with his gaze to my window's height, 

His back 'gainst the cherry tree. 

"'He breathed so gently, 'twas like the rush 

Of even's breeze through the hawthorn bush, 

That with its fragrance scents the air; 

His eye was bright, and his face was fair, 

And he spoke words of loveliness, 

Beyond what tongue could ever express. 

He swore by the bliss of Love's dear hours, 

By gentle April's vernal showers, 

By smiling May and laughing June, 

All sweets beneath the harvest moon, 

And aye, by the merry marriage bell, 

That he did love me passing well ; 

And he said, 6 by the gentle spirits of air, 

Thou art sweet and thou art fair, 

Oh thou art bright, and good, and young, 

And sweetest of speech the maids among ! 

Fond and faithful is my view, 

My words are weak, but my heart is true ; 

By the blue skies above, my heart's true love ! 

I never will wed but you ; 
Deny me — most wild and lorn my lot — 
Be kind — and a Heaven on earth I've got — 

I never will wed but you.' 

iU His voice, it was so soft and meek, 
The tear of feeling was on his cheek, 



Canto II. IxAND BENEATH THE SEA. 77 

The stars were bright, and I divine 

He saw a tear as well on mine : — 

He said he was a yeoman's son, 

His father was not a wealthy one, 

And he despaired that mine would be 

Content, one so poor should marry me : 

And he vowed unless I met him there, 

For three succeeding nights to come, 

When the slumbered world is deaf and dumb. 

Vile life he would no longer bear, 

But perish in his great despair. 

a c Oh foully fair and deadly sweet. 

The words of love on the lip of deceit ! 

Oh they are witching unholy hours, 

To die by the sweets of poison flowers ! 

And then remorse — the pain ! the pain ! 

That pinches the heart, and fevers the brain. 

Let never maiden believe again 

The midnight lover's true love strain ; 

All will rue it who so err, 

And sink in the arms of the flatterer. 

Let never maiden stay out a night, 

Though love, the lake, and stars be bright ; 

Spirits may rove and souls trepan, 
And she may meet a lover sprite, 

With love-lorn look so wan, 
For late, in sooth, my wild thought ran 
That the one I met was a fairy man. 

* 66 I met him once, I met him twke, 
And sooth to say, I met him thrice ; 



78 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

Oh many a long night o'er and o'er, 

I sought him — but he came no more ! 

Oh I did think to be affied, 

And I did hope to be his bride ! 

The thought was weak, the hope was vain, 

He never, never, came back again ! 

All is past — like a cruel dream, 

But I'll search the world to find out him ! 

Though weak and vain perchance my plan, 

Pray Heaven he wasn't a fairy man.' 

" Such was the simple maiden's tale, 
And she did sadly weep and wail, 
But three months after, what befel ? 
Oh I can remember passing well ! 
She saw not the tears our faces leave, 
Oh she was dead and in her grave. 

" What can be said in charity, 
For one that did not well ? 
What can be said in charity, 
For one that sinned and fell ? — 
What can be said ? — 

The proud will scorn 
The tear that is shed for the most forlorn — 
But the grave is deep — Malice may laugh, 

The ear of the grave is dull ; 
The grave is dark and its shelter safe. 

It sees not the pitiful : 

'Tis the fastness of the refugee, 
Nor poisoned chalice, nor dagger of malice, 

Nor ought that so deadly be— 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 79 



Can wound the grave to the bosom's core, 
And she within it can wail no more. 

"She died in childbed : — what can be said ; 

Ah — well a day ! 

Say what they may, 
She has been buried for many a day ; 
The grave is deep, and sound its sleep, 
And she at its bottom no more can weep. 
Duplicity's victim never met 
The sigh of pity, the tear of regret ; 
But the accusing spirit's scowls 
Array'd the brows of rigid souls, 
Darkening every tint of fall, 
With lip of scorn and tongue of gall — 
What, shall Pity be scared away ? — 

Ah — well a day ! 
The grave is deep, its shade can hide 
From the generous tear, and the scowl of pride. 

" She died — heart-broken died, poor girl — 
The world, it frowned on her like a churl. 
As frown it will on each that errs ; — 
And yonder stands that boy of hers — 
Oh every sweet look of his will prove 
That Celin, poor Celin's the child love ; 
And there he stands upon the bridge — 
His back against the railed hedge, 
With sightless eyes towards the skies, 
As searching worlds above ; 
He sees some marvel in the storm 
No other eye can see — 



80 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

And doubtless views the spirit form, 

That taught him minstrelsy ; 
Perhaps he sees his mother sweet, 

Who heart-broke died so young, 
Perhaps her spirit comes to greet 

Her boy in mystic tongue ; 
But there he gazes, while lightning blazes, 

With face of expression rare, 
And brightest mind, while on the wind 

Floats rich his yellow hair." 

The storm is o'er, e'en as before, 

The men in fields are working seen ; 

The young blind boy no more in joy, 
Is midst the stormy scene ; 

In changed attire, now by the fire, 
He sits in mood serene. 

They asked him for a tale or song, 

Nor asked they twice, nor waited long ; 

But what was greatly strange to me, 

He sung of the Land beneath the Sea ; 

And with a wildness, nerve, and fire, 

To hear, methinks, I ne'er could tire. 

I. 

Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep, 
The breath of God insinews ye, and awful is your 

sweep, 
Your voices, powers ! are mighty in ruin's triumph 

day, 
Ye rush on in your strength, and the proud lands 

melt away ; 



Canto II. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 81 

I cannot choose but marvel, and for your anger weep, 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

II. 

The rush of mighty waters surpasseth every might, 
Excavating promontories till as sea sands light, 
The north is strewed with creatures washed from the 

torrid zones, 
The elephant of India, oft, lays here his whitened 

bones : — 
I cannot choose but marvel, and for your anger weep, 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

III. 

The whirlwind grasps the forest top, and hurls it in 

the air, 
The earthquake swallows cities, and drags to chaos 

lair, 
And oh the fierce volcano dread ! its boiling fire flood, 
It eateth plains and mountains, and drinketh steaming 

blood ; 
Yet the suffering sons of men need more your anger 

weep, 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

IV. 

And what's the rage of whirlwinds ? a forest skyward 

tossed — 
But oh the woeful ocean that overleaps a coast, 
The walls of rjroudest castles are dashed like potter's 

clay, 
And clad with sandy barrenness the smiling fields of 

May, m 



82 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



Canto II. 



Cities fall in ruin heaps at Ocean's deadly sweep, 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

v. 

Fair Gwaelod laid by Ocean, like lamb at lion's side. 
Long he seemed to smile on her like Valour on his 

bride, 
Till came a furious daemon arrayed in storm and 

flame, 
Yclept of some tornado, with Hurricane his dame, 
The gentle ocean maddened, and roused from loving 

sleeps 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

VI. 

Lashed by the stormy furies for shelter Ocean rushed, 
And barricadoed flood-gates opposing him were 

crushed, 
The treacherous Seithenyn had opened one the while. 
Ocean fled, a refugee, for shelter in the isle ; 
The towns of lovely Gwaelod were dashed down in 

his sweep, 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

VII. 

There was a scream at midnight — ten thousand 

screams combined — 
'Twas wilder than the ocean, 'twas louder than the 

wind — 
Thunders deep or Earthquake's voice was never more 

profound, 
Till stilled like one who struggles and dieth of his 

wound. 



Canto II. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 83 

The sobs of drowning wretches then harbingered 

death's sleep, 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

VIII, 

Where be those merry cities ? where be those pleasant 

plains ! 
The sea-bird shrieks " they're ours I" in discord's 

tuneless strains ; 
Where be the noisy populace ? chiefs of ancient line ? 
Death and his jackall Iluin, together cry " they're 

mine !" 
And where's the gory war-field can boast such pe- 

rished heap ? 
Oh ye floods ! oh ye floods ! of the ever-rolling deep. 

The boy did scarce seem one of earth, 

So very strange his look and tone, 
But beautiful, as if his birth 

From spirits were : he shone 
In his peculiarity 
A marvel and a charm to me : 
And yet they said 'twas lack of sense, 
That caused the striking difference 
Between him and the sons of men — ■ 

That 'twas insanity ! — 
Then be it so — for certes then, 
'Tis beautiful to be insane, 

" My minstrel skill do some disown, 
Because I've not affection's tone, 
To sing the loves of youth and maid, 
Thence they do chidingly upbraid, 



84 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

And say I have my mother's face, 
But not her loving gentleness ; 
And in whispers some have said, 
c Young Celin hath inherited 

All his mother's lornful sadness, 
Her look, her hair, her very air, 

Her beauty and her madness.' 
In sooth it made me very sad 
To hear them whisper I was mad. 
For love have I, nor heart, nor voice, 
The wild and wondrous is my choice, 
And well I wot my minstrelsy 
Doth never, maidens ! pleasure ye ; 
Nor love I battle themes of blood, 

But Heaven's fire, and tempest ire, 
The ocean's overwhelming flood, 
Oh these be themes, and mighty dreams, 

My soul doth most admire. 

" In my childhood's early day 
When I could look on faces kind, 
Or, as they say, ere I grew blind, 
Some northern harpers passed this way, 
And in their train I ran away, 
For in my soul ! and in my heart ! 
Oh I did love their lovely art. 
The first day e'er I touched the string, 
They said that I could play and sing, 
Although a little urchin child, 
And they did love my harpings wild : 
One died, and left his harp to me, 
He taught me first some minstrelsy, 



Canto II. 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 85 



But more I gleaned in hours lone, 
When midnight moonbeams mildly shone, 
And shot at times a flood of light, 
That made my chamber gaily bright ; 

Methought a spirit tutored me, 
His shadow on the wall each night, 

Right faithful could I see — 
And voices answered to my thought, 
At length the spirit fire I caught. 

In time I framed the bardic lay, 
Taught by excelling southern bards, 

Whom chance threw in my way ; 
And northern harpers, southern bards, 
Well merit all men's best regards. 

a Of all the sights my soul did charm. 
Next to the beauty of the storm, 
Were two I never can forget, 
In thought I oft do see them yet, 
Upon a time of storms sublime, 

There chanced what once an age but chances ? 
And eyes that never saw the like, 
May mock the tale and laugh and glike, 

And consort it with wild romances : — 
Upon a time of storms sublime, 

The land-breeze blew the ocean back, 
The sand and clay were washed away, 

The rocks beneath were black : 
It was a wondrous sight to me, 
I walked the bottom of the sea, 14 
So wild, so lorn, so strange, and rude, 
And here it was that Gwaelod stood ! — 



86 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

God of wonders I can it be ? 

Was this the Land beneath the Sea — 

On which the stranger paused and wondered, 

The nation's gem, the Lowland Hundred ? 

And who can trace, in this wild place, 

The clustered cities of a nation ? 
Alternate caves and promontories, 
Alone remain so tell its stories — 
Their only tongue is — Desolation — 
They mark her everlasting station. 

" I wandered with a laggard pace, 
Lonely, through the awful place ; 
The long-razed cities of the dead, 
Methought, along the space was spread, 
And as the echoed winds did moan, 
Wild Fear and Fancy heard a groan 5 
Or sob, in ev'ry distant sound ; 
And I walked far and near around : 
From ocean's cells I gathered shells, 
And shell fish that abound. 

u Southward of the Ystwyth's bar, 
Methought I saw a spot afar, 
Dark as darkest velvet night, 
And very wondrous to the sight, 
It was so vast and uniform : 
I sought it, void of ail alarm, 
Oft, oft I slipped, and oft I fell, 
And oft lost every treasured shell, 
But treasure dearest far to me, 
To satisfy curiosity ; 



Canto II, 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 87 



When no impediment I heed, 
The rocks were slimed with alga weed/ 5 
And many of the scaly broody 
Deserted by their mother- flood ; 
Helpless perished here and there, 
Impeding much my journey drear. 

" At length o'er rocky plain and grot., 
I reached the wondrous sable spot ; 
But wondrous is a word most tame, 
To what the thing I saw did claim : 
It was a forest amply spread, 
Of trees, gigantic, black and dead ; 
Some laid upon the spots where felFd ? 
But most their lofty stations held, 
And they were black as black could be, 
And hard as hardest ebony. 

" The fallen wood was hacked and hewed, 

Fresh as cut down yesterday, 

With hatchet marks ; like wood in parks, 

They spread along the sea-less bay. 

'Twas terrible to walk between, 

Those barkless trees, so black, I ween, 

Antediluvian remains, 

Of blasted woods on blasted plains; — 

Or forest in the realms of death, 

It seemed ; I scarce could draw my breath 

My rallied courage came again, 

For well I wot my fears were vain. 

The roots in rocks were rivetted, 

And far about those roots were spread. 



88 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II, 

Entangling one another round, 

Above and beneath the sable ground, 

Dark as darkest turbary, 

That mountaineer could ever see : 

Boll and branch I saw complete, 

Though centuries, against these trees. 

And Ocean's buffets, beat : 

Stark they rear their heads in air, 

A mortal eye enough to scare, 

The stoutest heart formed to appal, 

So fearfully unnatural ! 

A wondrous fruit of kindred hue, 

In nobs the clustered muscles grew, 

Encrusted barnacles around, 

On some like rugged bark was found, 

It thrilled me, seeing life through all, 

Half negative, half animal. 

And 'twas no common sight to mark, 

In close-forked trees transfixed, a shark, 

Caught in the vigour of his spring, 

As in a trap, till death did wring 

The felon's gory life away, 

Meet end for every thing of prey. 

" The Sea roared to resume her reign • 

I hurried to the distant plain ; 

Next day the wondrous scene was o'er, 

Gwaelod's ruins seen no more ! 

Save by me — whom ye call blind — 

The mirror of fancy, the eye of mind, 

Is the life, the delight, of my darksome days ! 

And I live in the beauty of marvel's blaze. 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 89 



" I've noted many a lovely scene 
Of blossom'd trees in forest green, 
In the verdant season fair, 
Bright in beauty, higli heads rear — 
But to my memory more dear, 
Though full of wonder dark and drear, 
That sable forest was to me, 
Within the Land beneath the Sea. 

" While wand'ring on the self same coast, 

It chanced one day, in pond'ring lost, 

A flash of fire from the sky, 

Flared across my startled eye — 

'Twas not like lightning — strange and new, 

Methought it was of azure hue, 

Such as ne'er was seen by man 

Since, perhaps, the world began : — • 

I looked — but it had ceased to be — 

Around I gazed, on land and sea, 

A promontory's height my seat, 

Commanding waves and vallies sweet ; 

I gazed in vain o'er sea and plain, 

Methought 'twas nought but my mistake — 
No ! no ! 'tis true — the sight I view, 

Now from the waters break ! — 
A weak blue flame from ocean came, 16 
Like a rainbow, broad and wide, 
With a vast and mighty stride, 
As elements twain to command, 
One limb on sea and one on land ; 
More strong and stronger grew the flame, 
And further over land it came, 

N 



90 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

I felt as sudden turned to stone. 

To see the wild phenomenon ; 

I live but in the reign of wonder, 

To me 'twas sweet as wildest thunder ! 

Were I to be consumed that hour, 

To leave the spot I had not power, 

It was so wonderful to see, 

And marvelment is all to me. 

But pleasure hath a transient reign, 

In this, our world, 'tis vain, 'tis vain ! 

Every rapture hath its care, 

Every beauty hath its snare ; 

The rose that blooms so lovelily, 

So sweet of fragrance ! hath its thorn ; 
Ruin hath rocks 'neath the silver sea, 

The smiler hath sneers of scorn ; 
And where the loving and loved are true, 
The soul of each other from morn to night, 
A beauty, a joy, oh a genial light ! 
Death, or a selfish world is seen, 
Like a devil, to step between, 
And the sun of delight is shorn — 
Oh pleasure hath but a transient reign. 
In this our world, — 'tis vain, 'tis vain. 

" The fire that kindled wild surprise, 
And greeted my boyish heart and eyes, 
Alas did prove the country's bane, 
The breath of hell to the hapless plain : 
The meadows drooping for the scythe, 
Soon in the crackling fire writhe, 
The sea-breeze blew it to a blaze, 
The horror-stricken farmers gaze ! — 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 91 



Down the vale the fire ran, 
And to the tenements of man, 
O'er the farmer's yards it came, 
The ricks of corn are high in flame, 
House, barn, and out-houses on fire, 
And hapless cattle, burnt, expire ; 
The bounteous cow, the beauteous horse, 
Each calcined to a cindered corse. 
There were noises most astounding, 
Guns were fired, horns were sounding ; 
All was fear, and grief, and terror, 
The coast was in a scream of horror, 
Loud as if our enemies, 
In hosts were landing from the seas ; 
And ne'er were enemies more dread, 
O'er beleaguered country spread ! 
In the blust'rous stormy nights, 
Wilder still the sound and sights ; 
And there were sobs and loud laments, 
And sullen silent discontents, 

Misery in many forms, 
Calamity, it seemed to me, 

Grew vain of her fury charms ! 
'Twas not the wonder of a day, 
A mournful fortnight was its stay, 

The mystic fire from the sea ; 
And twice two years its tainted breath 
Sent from the poisoned earth the deal! 

A dread calamity ! 
Creatures on the grass that fed, 
In a single hour were dead, 
The place became a very waste, 
Till changing seasons all replaced. 



92 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

I do remember me, the sense 
I felt, was its magnificence, 
The bustle of the fearful time, 
Methought was wondrously sublime ; 
And such impression — fresh as caught — 
Still lives in all the glow of thought. 
Perchance I tell my nature's blame, 
And 'tis with conscious, humbled, shame, — 
I have forgotten benefits 

That claimed engravement on the heart, 
The laugh-exciting mirth of wits, 

And even sorrow's smart ; 
But ne'er forgot I marvel's sight, 
Seen ere I gained my day in night." 

I parted with the wondrous boy ; 

'Twas late — he sought his night's repose ; 
I envied more his innate joy, 

Than pitied for his woes : 
I parted with a pang of heart, 
That made it hard, full hard to part ; 

For he had won upon me so, — 
Eccentric in ingenuousness ! 

I could not choose but feel the throe 
Of friendship's dear distress." 

A sudden recollection rose, 

A star-shoot of the startled mind, 

Its lab'rinth all I sought to find, 
But found it hard to close ; 
For my thought and wonder ran 

Into strange conjectures wild, 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 93 



Upon the sightless ancient man 
Who perished Gwaelod's tale began, 

And then upon this child — 
'Tis strange — 'tis wondrous strange. 
Though tracing each coincidence 
O'er and o'er, caught nothing thence, 

To link therewith a chain, 
And pausing oft, for minutes dumb, 

Still find it all in vain : 
Each thought arranged I disarrange, 
And still to this conclusion come, 

" 'Tis strange, — 'tis very strange !" 
And yet I ponder o'er and o'er, 1 

And yet conclude it as before, > 

Thus evermore, and evermore, 3 

u 'Tis strange — 'tis very strange !" 
Then giving up the vain assay, 
I thought of the dame in the cloak of gray : 

In vain the clue I change — 
Uncertainty sunk to repose, 
With the ever-constant close, 

" 'Tis strange — 'tis very strange !" 

Much I questioned of the youth, 
They answered with a tone of truth, 
In plainness and simplicity, 
That more than art could pleasure me, 
And this last tale among the many, 
Was told me by hostess Blany. 

" On Celin's gentle mother's grave 
There be flowers bright and brave, 



94 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

Oh they are sweet and very fair, 
Bright hued or pale, but none can tell 

What strange hand plants them there : 
None, none can guess who could arrange, 
A form, a grave so very strange. 

" It is a very lovely mound, 
As a haycock high, and round ; 
There is a tree upon its head, 
A mountain ash of berries red ; 
There is a bird that's often heard 

Upon that straight young tree to wail, 
My favourite of all that sings ! 
Not for gaudy breast or wings, 

It is the nightingale. 
And at the boll of that fair tree 
Sweet flowers blow right bloomingly, 
Encircling rows, each downward goes, 
Enlarging till it reach the ground, 
E'en to the bottom of the mound, 
Where round as any rick of hay, 
Firm-stuck slates in neat array, 
All around, embank the ground, 

That ground so sadly gay. 

From many a neighbouring hill and vale. 
From many a distant town and village, 

Come pride's parade, and men of trade. 
And men of craft and tillage, 

To hear that lorn-voiced nightingale, 

And see that very lovely grave, 

So sweetly decked with flowers brave % 



Canto II. 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 95 



They ponder long, and marvel much, 
What secret hand e'er planted such, 
But none can tell who set that tree, 
Or the flowers that bloom so lovelily. 

" Before young Celin lost his sight, 

He loved to sit by his mother's grave, 
And watch the growth of flow'rets brave, 

But since he lost the light, 

(Or rather gained it, as he says, 

For so singular his ways, 

He calls it his day in night;) 

We find he never wanders there, 

And never speaks of the grave so fair, 

" Since with the harpers once away 

He ran, and still he's prone to stray, 

Of his distant walks afraid, 

One day to him my Mary said, 

' How is it, now you never go 

To the chapel yard, where you used to regard, 

Each blossom in infancy blow ?. 

The flowers that bloom on your mother's grave, 

The nightingale sweet, and the tree so brave V 

He made reply with a heavy sigh, 

And wiped a tear from either eye, 

Those sweet blue eyes that many doubt, 

Their beams of vision can be out ! 

And these the words he gave : — 

c Ere outward darkness made me wise, 

And light came o'er my thinking eyes, 

I thought those flowers very bright, 

But the stars of the sky are flowers of light ! 



96 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto II. 

And they be the only flowers for me, 

They shine in their blue ground gracefully !' 

He spoke with fervent earnestness, 

His saint-like look no tongue can guess, 

The like before I never saw, 

And we did list to him with awe. 

'I once did think those flowers fair, 

And them my mother's breast doth wear, 

They tell me, and that beauteous tree 

That blooms above so lovelily, — 

They told me that its roots be spread, 

To guard her face — my mother dead ! 

They say that bird with note of woes, 

Her guardian angel stationed here 

Those who loved her well to cheer. 
And sing her to repose ; 
But it is not true ! oh it is not true ! 
And whoso thinketh, whoso saith, 
I do dissent me from their faith ; 
My mother hath nothing to do with graves, 
The flower of fragrance, or tree that waves, 
She dwells in those skies of blue I 
I think of her with with loving thought, 

But deem her not beneath the ground, 
My soul with confidence is fraught, 

She lives — in glory crowned! 
I know my mother's alive above, 
Where stars of beauty shine, and move 
To glorious sounds of melody, 

And all is sweet as sweet can be ! 
My mother hath nought with graves to do ! 
She walks by sweet rivers, where skulk no deceivers, 

That smile with the heart untrue; 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 97 



Dear to my heart is the thought of my mother ! 

And her face I yet shall view — 
I have nor father, nor sister, nor brother, 

My soul's in those skies of blue ! 
The tear will start while heaves my heart, 
As these thoughts I pursue ; 
But talk not of graves, nor flower that waves, 

The sweetest on earth is bitter as rue ; 
My mother hath nothing to do with graves, 
The bird that sings, or the flower that waves, 

She lives in yon skies of blue ! 
Oh what be the sweetest flowers of May, 
That live their hour and grace their day, 
To those on high that never die, 
But bloom for ever and aye ? — 
Compared to the flowers and fadeless bowers, 
Where stars be the stones, in those skies of blue?' 

" And heard ye nothing of his kin 

Since his mother's death ?" cried I, 

" Have there no enquiries been ?" 
Each answered with a sigh — 

I did repeat again the query, 

At length, confused, thus answered Mary. 

" A woman in a cloak of gray, 
Some weeks ago, did pass this way, 
None could hear her but would glean, 
That she was of his mother's kin" — 

" A woman, in a cloak of gray ?" 
Cried I with wonder — " say on! say." 

o 



98 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto JJ. 

u In cloak of gray an ancient dame," 
Cried Mary, " to our village came, 
She asked if, eighteen years ago, 
A stranger strayed this way or so ; 
And then described young Celin's mother, 
I'm sure that she could mean no other ; 
We feared to lose young Celin much, 
And straight denied e'er seeing such ; 
When dreading she'd make further stir, 
The Village through, misled we her, 
And said c a tale hath far been spread 
Of one that to St. David's strayed, 
Who dying, gave birth to a son' — 
Cried she c it is the very one !' 
And with the haste of life and death, 
Eager speed and panting breath, 
She mounted and rode off; they say, 
Straight to St. David's took her way." 

" Alas ! I've played a faithless part 

Towards him I valued in my heart;" 

(Blany sigh'd, and wept the while,) 

" But 'twas affection's honest guile : 

Honour, wealth, and peace, for ought 

We know, belike that stranger brought, 

But I have dashed it from the boy — 

That thought— that thought— will e'er annoy ! 

That deed will every pleasure blight, 

Since which I've never slept a night — 

Confession, 'sooth, relieves my pain, 

Perchance I now may sleep again ; 

Nay, Mary, cease ! and check me not, 

I'll own it all, whate'er mv lot !. — 



Canto II. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 99 



Those wonders, told about the grave, 
And half the marvels that I gave 

Of Celins ways and wanderings, 
Myself I made for selfish thrift — 
Thus souls sink down our state to lift, 

While smote with conscience stings ; 
Strangers came from far and near, 
Where flew report, the tale to hear ; 
With mind diseased young Celin pleased, 
His mildness had a charm that seized, 

His minstrel skill might any win, 
And wherever reached his fame. 
Here strangers with donations came. 

And filled our village Inn. 
His mother — she was all, I said, 
Nor can I there my heart upbraid ; 
And then her grave so fairly decked — 
v Twas I" — her mother Mary checked — 
" And yet, for all this selfish art, 
For him I've done a mother's part, 
And would do more — oh could I send 
For her, perchance, by blood his friend — 
The truth, the truth I would aver !" 
Cried I, " I'll be your messenger ; 
That rout is mine, the Pembroke coast , 
Beside the ancient country lost — 
And as I breathe, that search shall be 
A duty, task, and joy to me ! 
Dear as to seek, from week to week, 
And patient trace, book's, ocean's face, 
For thee ! o'er coasts, from place to place. 
Thou Land beneath the Sea." 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



CANTO II!. 



THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA 



CANTO IIL 



Oh my native Cambrian breeze ! 
From the mountain — o'er the seas,— 
Purified upon the main, 
O'er hill and valley back again ! — 
Exporting fragrance from the vale — 
Importing gusts saline and hale — 
A barter 'twixt the elements, 
That profit to the twain presents ! — 
A wooing 'tween the Lord of Waters, 
And Terra Firma's first of daughters.—' 
Smiles not Heaven on their union ? 
Beautiful the sweet communion ! 
The whistling wind and leaping sea, 
'Tis nature's dance and minstrelsy. 

Oh the breeze of Cymru's mountain, 
Health imbued — and mineral fountain ! 
Salutiferous, strong of gust, 
Ennerving mind and form robust ! — 



104 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

Dear, salubrious, breath of health, 
Nature's priceless truest wealth ! 
'Tis thine to nurse the gallant frame, 
And brace the soul so daring aim, 
Elancing vigour, extacied, 
Limberness and manly pride, — 
Restore to bloom the faded cheek ; 
The eye revived, bid rapture speak;— 
'Tis thine to grace the valley girl, 
Of rosy cheek, and teeth of pearl, 
Give lively look of constant cheer, 
Oh mountain breeze of Cymru dear ! 
Be mine — be mine — and Awen* aid, 
I court no heliconian maid ; 
And oh ! if Awen's mine, with thee, 
The theme I weave, perchance shall live, 
The Land beneath the Sea. 

And what is Awen ? 'tis the beam 
Of Beauty's sun on Reason's stream— 
A rainbow bright, of tints profuse, 
Splendour's rich and glorious hues I 
Amazing in its depth of colours, 
Extreme of Joy's — extreme of Dolour's — 
As God's high sun, supremely bright, 
And dark as deep tartarean night : — 
It is the quick — it is the dead — 
'Tis sweetly dear — 'tis full of dread — 
And now in plainness greets the sense, 
Anon, in vast magnificence : 

* Awen is the Welsh word signifying Poetic Genius. 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 105 

It is the vision of a mind 

Most energetic, most refined, 
Wild as the storm, huge as the sea, 
That greatly rolls eternally. 

What is Awen ? the joy of pain, 

A strange volcano of the brain, 

A world-consuming lava's ferment — 

A bliss, e'en in the hour of torment ; 

A glimpse of Hell — or Heaven — afar, 

Brief, vivid, as a shooting star : 

It is the most remote extreme 

Of good and bad — the height supreme—- 

In Nature's magnitude of wonder ; 

The lightning's flare, the roll of thunder,, 

The earth convulsed, or chaos hurled, 

The marvels of the ocean-world ; 

A hurricane below — aloft — 

Anon affection's whisper soft, 

A slumber of the elements 

Which all that's calmly sweet presents-— 

In joy — in torments -—formed to dwell^ 

The bliss of heaven — pains of hell — 

The martyr's death it doth sublime, 

And dignifies the mighty crime : — 

It is the sun framed to absterse, 

And brighten all the universe — 

It is an awful lurid star, 

The blazing eye of Lucifer, 

As on the lightning's wing he rode, 

And loured defiance to the hosts of God. 



106 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III, 

What is Awen ? oh 'tis to sense 
The acme of all excellence — 
The beauty of the beautiful — 
The glory of the terrible ! 
Of wonderment the thrilling zest, 
'Tis pity, aching in the breast — 
The spirit eminently bold — 
Philanthropy's own heart of gold ; 
It is the song by angels sung, 
'Tis heroism's native tongue, 
To Roman virtue, Roman pride, 
And Roman greatness, near allied; — 
Midst worldly buffets, Fortune's goad, 
What oft stamps man a demi-god, 
And he within whose gifted breast 
It reigns, to be both curst and blest, 
Most wretched oft, of wretched things, 
And oft above the state of kings ; 
'Tis majesty, divest of pride, 
The lofty thought well purified — 
The elevated soul's discourse, 
Of song, the bright, the deep, the force. 

By Awen's aid have men met fame 
Beyond their hope, beyond their claim ; 
Without it die the noblest deeds, 
But with it, oft, the weak succeeds : 
There have beenkings as Arthur brave, 17 
Who've sunk unnoted to the grave, 
Nor met posterity's regard, 
But Arthur lives — he had a bard — 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 107 



'Twas Awen's hallowed flood of light 
That made him seen, that made him bright ; 
Thence Arthur's pride, and Arthur's name, 
Arthur's grandeur, feats, and fame, 
Are known among the slaved and free. 
Far o'er the land and o'er the sea, 
And writ by Awen's hand on high 
With stars for letters in the sky.* 

And what is A wen ? — bright his lot, 

To say what 'tis — or what 'tis not — 

And brightest of the sons of men 

Is he that can, and owns it then : — 

For me, alas ! conjecture crude, 

Ambition warm, and numbers rude, 

In vain assay to adumbrate 

A marvel, greatest of the great ; 

Yet fearlessly I dare aver, 

(And where is he shall say I err ?) 

'Tis valour's soul — its spur and spring — - 

Which he, the gory Saxon king, 

To stab her to the bosom's core, 

Decreed should Cymru bless no more. 

Too well th' atrocious aim succeeds, 

The bard— thy genius Cymru! — bleeds — 

With Freedom, Awen ceased to be, 

It cannot live, but with the free ! — 

Nor can it die, for 'tis a spirit, 

And who would crush can never share it ; 

* The beautiful constellation Lyra is also called Arthur's Harp. 



108 I^AND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

It is a spirit that absconds, 

And flies the despot land of bonds. 

No — glorious Awen cannot die ! 

But like the stork seeks freedom's sky ; 

Long, long o'er other lands it ranged, 

Long, long to Britain's Isle estranged — 

Yet fled but to return again, 

And bless the Tudor's maiden reign ; 

But ne'er shall shine as then it shone, 

Eliza's days were Awen's own. 



ELIZABETH THE TUDOR. 

Elizabeth the Tudor ! 

With marvel nations viewed her, 
The brightest Queen by Time e'er seen 
To grace our lovely isle of green, 

Elizabeth the Tudor. 

When foreign arms assailed her, 
The God of Valour mailed her, 

(His own was she !) by land and sea, 

Defeating foes triumphantly, 
In hate whoever held her. 

Elizabeth the &c. 

Her Papist foes, dispute ye 
Her steps of rigid duty ? 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 109 

The virgin queen's bellona mien, 
The Pallas of the council scene. 
The Venus, bright in beauty ? 
Elizabeth the &c. 

Though royal suitors sought her. 
More lowly merit wrought her, 
Yet proudly soared, disdained a lord, 
And lonely clutched the regal sword, 
King Henry's mighty daughter. 
Elizabeth the &c. 

A brilliant constellation 

Of merit, graced the nation, 
Arts, arms, and sweet poesy's charms — 
All, all, the liberal heart that warms, 

Gems of civilization ! 

Elizabeth the &c. 

Those names who can o'er-reckon, 
Our Shakspeare, 18 Spencer, Bacon, 

Th' Augustan age in Britain's page, 

Oh famed for poet, warrior, sage, 
And each the era's beacon ! 

Elizabeth the &c. 

Exult ye sons of Cymrti, 

Elizabeth came from ye ! 
Bright beams did hem her diadem, 
A halo rich of deathless fame, 

Exult ye sons of Cymru ! 

Elizabeth the &c. 



110 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

Old Cymru's bards prophetic, 

In strains bold and pathetic, 
Had long foretold her age of gold, 
That Britons should the sceptre "hold, 

With grip most energetic ! 

Elizabeth the &c. 

Though past, her age of glory, 

Oh proud it beams in story, 
Time's golden light, so sunny bright, 
Sublimes the Tudor page of might, 

Great talent's era hoary ! 

Elizabeth the &c. 



Thus move my steps, my thoughts, and song, 

As o'er the land I pace along ; 

Reflection makes a pausing stand 

On Ceredigion's ancient land, 

Its rugged portions that remain, 

Its gem is lost beneath the main, 

The champaign vast, with cities studded, 

Of all beloved ! of all applauded ! 

Cantrev y Gwaelod ! even she— 

The town-sown land beneath the sea. 

I will not cross thee, Teivy, yet, 
For in thy coronet is set 
Gems of price, to be desired, 
Flowers bright to be admired ! 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Ill 



But never flower that breezes wave, 

Had bank more sweet than Cambrian grave ; 19 

And blessings on the hand that reared 

In Aberteivy's burial yard ; 

Those— scarce less lovely to the view, 

Than lately seen at Rhyd-y-Briw. 

Affection in the ancient days, 
Her power in the heart pourtrays, 
With mournful loveliness ! mid times 
Where that sweet gleam alone, sublimes 
The deep and long dark night of mind, 
By one fond custom, wise as kind, 
Of noting with regard the dead ; 
'Twas native every where ; not spread 
By imitation, cold and tame, 
Its origin what land can claim ? 
However differing in creeds, 
These were nature's gracious deeds. 

The isolated native, wild, 
Unlettered nature's simple child, 
Long o'er the lifeless form beloved, 
Would weep — e'en to distraction moved — 
And shriek, and rave, till scant of breath, 
Then rudely reason, " what is death ?" 
And when 'twas covered with the sod, 
Invoking o'er it Nature's God ; 
Beneath the moon or solar ray, 
Perchance for many a night and day, 
The gentle savage sat and wept, 
As o'er a mistress loved that slept, 



112 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

'Twas Greece and Rome's the corse to burn, 
And treasure in the sculptured urn 
The ashes of their sons of might 
Or worth, with many a tender rite ; 
That urn have arms of fondness braced, 
Like lover's round a virgin's waist, 
While fell the tear upon her breast, 
While passion dotingly caressed. 
Sage Egypt, mother of the arts, 
Evinced her sons had kindly hearts. 
Fantastic in their fancy, yet 
With labour pictured deep regret ; 
For lo ! her kingly tombs, cloud hid 
Her massive mountain pyramid, 
Her hieroglyphics' mystic aim, 
Investing the loved mummied frame, 

But never land beneath the sky, 

In arts, in lore, however high, 

Refined this holy custom more 

Than Britain, in the days of yore. 

"And still" — cry Cymru's sons, " His ours V* 

So Cymru's fragrant grave of flowers. 

Oh sweet's the Cambrian Peasant's grave, 
Bedecked with living flowers brave, 
That warm affection's fingers dress, 
In all the charms of loveliness ! — 
Thou gem of modes, I've paused upon 
Till admiration's voice was gone, 
Smothered in its own excess ! 
So ardent lovers ever bless i 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 11. 



How can I, meetly speak of thee, 

That oft hast spoke so kind to me, 

Till tears adown my cheeks have ran, 

Ere years or thought had stamped me man ? 

Oh full of beauty, soft and kind ! 

Oh ever gentle and refined ! 

Amiability's, each feature — 

Oh full of dear warm-hearted nature — 

Suggested first by pensive love, 

And into gracious being wove, 

Wert thou — so exquisitely bland. 

Dear custom of my mountain land. 

The milder virtues round thee throng, 

Poesy breathes her lornest song, 

While tears that flow and hearts that ache, 

And sighs the suffering frame that shake, 

As troubled seas the hull of barks, 

Whose timber work, while ruin marks, — 

(High-seated on a stormy cloud, 

While billows lash and winds are loud) 

Dear sensibility ! thy reign 

Proclaims amid sublimest pain : 

Thy sons — wherever born — -have cried 

While the generous scene they eyed, 

" Oh beautiful ! — in simple taste, 

The Cambrian Peasant's grave is drest." 

Thy humble chapel, Rhycl-y-Brew, 
E'er white amid paternal yew, 
Attracts the eye, and wins the heart, 
Before the costly piles of art, 



114 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

E'en to the maid of native charms, 

Beyond the tricked out moppet warms, 

And we are won, and we do bless 

Her, for her simple gentleness ! 

For dear to me the sweetly simple, 

Where rural nature rears her temple. 

Sacrilege ne'er entered there • 

No iron rails, no trap to snare, 

Or guard against the midnight tread 

Of ruffian dealers in the dead, 

Cold city villains, barter wise ! 

Who would vend their own for merchandize. 

'Tis holy ground to each and all, 

Howe'er atrocious, great or small. 

No hogs are there with snout obscene, 

Nor grazing cattle mar the green ; 

Nor nettles high, rank grass or dock, 

Nor human bones to shame and shock ; 

But flowers fair their fragrance shed, 

And ever?/ grave's a flower bed ! 

With primrose border, daises, lillies, 

Uprooted from the dewy vallies : 

And laved with lime, so fair to sight, 

The head and footstones e'er are white — 

White pebbles edge the grave about, 

And white is sorrow's face devout, 

(Bleached with tears) that bends o'er there, 

To make Death's garden sweet and fair. 

Thus sorrow hath her fancies chaste, 

For beauty lorn and wild, a taste, 

And order neat, pervadeth too 

Her handy works at Pdiyd-y-Brew. 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 115 

But what is order there, or taste ? 
At best they're beauties coldly chaste, 
That please the eye — but oh, a charm, 
A soul of feeling, breathing warm, 
That Death's dread house can beautify. 
And wreaths to pulseless brows apply, 
Is in the Cambrian grave-yard : yes, 
My mountain land ! thy modes I bless ; 
The manners of the heart be thine, 
Originally pure that shine ! 
Simplicity directs them — she 
With heavenly pensive piety, 
In gentle sisterhood are found 
To deck the Cambrian Peasant's mound, 

'Tis sweet to view, each Easter day, 
(Long ere commenced the festals gay,) 
With the morning's earliest red, 
The churchyard with the living spread, 
Mixed, male and female, youth and age, 
To Sorrow's shrine on pilgrimage. 
Some bearing flowers, others lime, 
(I have marked them many a time,) 
A part is sprinkled o'er the grave, 
They margin, head, and footstone lave. 
Weed and reset each flower with care, 
And rouse dear recollections there ; 
The pious custom every year 
The Cambrian Peasant doth revere, 
And some there be, the spot who seek 
To week the loved grave once a week, 
And many, while affliction's strong, 
To miss a day would think it wrong. 



116 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto 111. 

We've seen the matron, erst so wild, } 

With grief subdued, but sadly mild, > 

Sit by the grave where slept her child — j 
And look on it so crushed by care, 
As if her heart lay buried there ; 
Her knitting tackle then resume, 
And look off from the flowered tomb — 
Then gaze again — with thoughtful pause, 
Then hide the tears her thinkings cause, 
And quick assume a careless eye, 
When startled by the passers by. 
True grief is lonely — strange in mien — 
And hears condolement's voice with spleen : 
But rather would men thought her gay, 
Than make parade of grief's array, 

For nought so maddens, frets, or duns, 

As mere mouth-cant of worldly ones. 

And we've seen children as they wept. 

The spot seek where a parent slept, 

Every night, and noon, and morn, 

To weed, to weep, or to adorn ; 

And I have seen the tend'rest lover, 

Lament for her, whose bloom was over ! 

E'en one, who morning, noon, or night, 

Regarded not the tender rite, 

Prompt to perform, though midnight dew 

Bedript his locks, or tempests blew; — 

But that's a tale — few passing words, 

On theme so treasured, ill accords. 

Oh when this scene of life is o'er, 

And I can hope or fear no more, 

Should in my lays a proof be seen, 

A man deserving note had been, — 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA 117 



Oh should my partial countrymen, 
Decree the tomb's memorial then, — 
Might they award beyond my aim, 
A poet's meed, a poet's fame, — 
Give me — by those who loved me made — 
Beneath a weeping willow's shade, 
(More valued far than laurel bowers !) 
A Cambrian Peasant's grave of flowers. 

Well, Aberteivy* — comes the day, 
To wend me from thee on my way, 
But take thy due, a bard's adieu, 
A brief, but honest lay. 



ABERTEIVY. 

I. 

I passed from Aberteivy, and its broad smooth stream, 
Reflected beauteous tints of gallant morning's beam ; 
I thought of its meanderings, and deep ravine, 
And winning wilds so picturesque ! but lately seen ; 
A blessing from my lips and inmost heart there fell, 
When I passed from Aberteivy, as I said "farewell." 

II. 

The sons of Aberteivy, they be kind of heart, 

And who can from their maidens without sighs depart ? 

They frown not on the stranger, or the minstrel's 

claim, 
The good, the kind, the hospitable, merit fame ! 

* Aberteivy is the "Welsh name of Cardigan. 



118 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

Yes, the warm and grateful throb did my bosom 

swell, 
When I passed from Aberteivy, as I said " farewell !'' 

III. 

My thoughts they ran enraptured on the Teivy's 

stream, 
The beauties, wild and wondrous, on its banks that 

teem ; 
Its light and ancient coracles, of windtike sweep, 
Its rapid rush of mightiness, through plain and steep ! 
Its haunt of cunning Beavers, far famed, now no more, 
And I thought of huge Cilgerran in the days of yore. 

IY. 

We praise thee not for beauty, for thy beauty's scant. 
We praise thee not for riches — yet thou know'st no 

want ; 
But noble is thy river, beauteous is thy seat, 
Pure is thy ocean air, thy scenery is sweet ! 
Thy brave and princely spirit I delight to tell, 
And I bless thee, Aberteivy ! fare thee well ! fare- 
well. 



Alas for Dyved's* barren coast, 
What contrast to the country lost ! 
A paradise and wilderness, 
Could not be more — could not be less ; 

* Dyfed is the Welsh name for the County of Pembroke, as Penvro 
h of the Town. 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. \\9 

There was a time these monstrous capes 
Of promontories wore fair shapes, 
And sloped, till ending in the plain, 
Though now, lashed by the boist'rous main, 
To gaunt and savage rugged forms, 
Bared, wasted, by the flood and storms ; 
Supplanted by the waters now, 
The Lowland Hundred's sunk below ; 
The vales and dingles 'tween her hills, 
The ocean in her swelling fills, 
Consuming and encroaching still, 
Till fronted by opposing hill, 
The dauntless barrier of the land, 
Whose rocky front makes daring stand : 
Still battle waves with fierce design. 
The lofty crags to undermine, 
And many a gap, and many a cave, 
By thee all-persevering wave ! 
Is hollowed, till bereft of prop, 
The baseless roof is doomed to drop, 
Thus many a rock is dashed to sand, 
And fathoms, miles, leagues, lost of land, 
Alas for Dyved's barren coast, 
What contrast to the country lost ! 
And look we inward from the sea — 
Oh what a sight were it for thee ! 
Thou native of the sweet champaign, 
Ere Gwaelod by the sea was slain ; 
If here thy footsteps wandered e'er ; 
Returning to thy Lowlands fair, 
Greeted by thy home's dear hail, 
Thus, methinks, might run thy tale. 



120 LAND BENEATH THE SEA Canto III. 

"It was a wild and dreary land, 

As o'er it Horror held command, 

And Barrenness its rightful king, 

By him deposed, did Famine cling ; 

Bat Barrenness asserts his reign, 

In his state of death though lain. 

The huge white stones, do seem his bones, 

His rocky ribs shew through the earth, 
So scant the soil ! man's thoughts recoil, 

To see his skeleton stretched forth ; 
His members far and near are spread, 
An upland crag appears his head ; 
That grins against the whistling storm, 
Gigantic, rugged, was his form ! — 
His limbs athletic, like a vein, 
Form leagues of ridges through the plain, 
High rising here, and sinking there 
And covered oft, and often bare : 
And other forms immense and rude, 
Were of his tribe and savage brood, 
Scattered far, or piled in heaps, 
Mark where he reigned, and where he sleeps, 
And there be other parts again, 
Of Barrenness and Horror's reign, 
The rotting earth of sable hue, 
The grassless heavy soil of blue, 
The shaking quag where grew the gorse, 
To tempt the starving cow or horse, 
Where mid many a brambled brake, 
Croaked deep the toad, and hissed the snake : 
And then the subjects of that land, 
A ghastly, harsh-in-visage, band, 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 121 



Unlike our bright-eyed happy train, 
The soar featured sons of pain; 
What grubs to noble creatures be, 
Were they to men, and sad to see, 
Nature's last and worst — her scurf, 
Who scooped the rotten marsh for turf, 
Then trembled o'er their scanty fires, 
And muttered care, and mean desires ; 
The wretched people of the moor, 
Fanatics all ! of creed impure, 
Pelagian heretics,"* whose zeal 
Is wild as madness, keen as steel, 
Bli nd as ignorance, and base 
As infidels — the world's disgrace; 
But we are from such creatures hallow'd, 
In our sweet land, Cantrev y Gwaelod, 
Oh we are from such terrors sunder'd, 
In plenty's own, the Lowland Hundred. 

For industry and peace are there, 
Firm manhood brave and woman fair ! 
And sorrow ne'er was known to be, 
Where sojourned cheerful industry ; 

And we can never know distress, 
Like your dread ills, beyond the hills, 

Ye children of the wilderness !" 
Alas for Dyfed's barren coast, 
What contrast to the country lost ! 



* Vide Introduction to the Poem of "St. Germain's Field," for ihe 
nature of this sect. 



122 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III, 

But many a living contrast cheers, 

Ere yet St. David's vale appears, 

At length that scene of grandeur's blight, 

Britain's little Rome's in sight' — 20 

The city of unsightly cots, 

Where college— palace — fallen, rots I 

And shrieking sea-birds seem to wail 

The city of the rosy vale. 

Vallis Rosina ! thy looks are lorn, 
Thou'rt called a city as in scorn, 
But Vallis Rosina, it should not be, 
Scorn appertaineth not to thee : 
Though aged and wasted be thy form, 
By many an age of ruthless storm, 
And wasting, crumbling to thy grave, 
Thine arms enfold the wise and brave : 
And on thy venerable breast 
Thy nation's chiefs in honor rest,* — 

The Prince who battled for Cymru's right, 
The prelate hoar, and sage of yore, 

The patriot of might ! 
So, Vallis Rosina ! thy looks though lorn 
Can ne'er attract the point of scorn. 

Who can wag an unfilial tongue 
Against the bosom where he clung, 
Although that bosom may no more team, 
With its ancient plenteous stream ? — 



* St. David's shared with Strata Florida, and Conway Abbey, the 
honor of the sepulture of the princes of the land. 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 123 

Who, who can frown on a mother's face, 

And twit her with a lack of grace, 

Count her wrinkles, and with pride 

Her sad decripitude deride ? 

E'en as impious curst and base, 

Thy children who sneer on thy matron face, 

The sons of the Cymru who forget, 

Thy glorious sunshine e'er it's set ; 

So Vallis Rosina, hail to thee ! 

Although thou look'st so mournfully. 

My thoughts do glance on the present and past. 

From what thou art to what thou wast : 21 — 

I viewed to-day a skeleton, 

The sockets were dark, and the eyes were gone, 

And yet there was a merry day 

When glistened those visions with rapture gay : 

I turned to thy ruined palace then, 

With sockets of windows without a pane, 

And there was nothing in those recesses, 
But darkness and gloom, and the damp of the tomb, — 

That thought, that thought distresses ! 
For I glanced to the palace in festal days, 
When pleasure shone with a glorious blaze, 
From these, when windows — now reft and rotten; 
Although they criticized each hue, 
The red, the green, the yellow, and blue, 
As stained by splendour's florid hand, 
On the pictured glass, the pride of the land : 

And they did move the active foot, 
To melody's sound, around, around, 

But melody now is mute : 



124 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

And there was the haughty step of state, 

The young, the fair, the rich, and great, 

The merry, the proud, and laughter loud, 

Perchance affection's eye-glance sweet, 

And ceremony's formal greet, 

But ceremony is now forgot, 

All all, hath been — and all is not, 

I looked again on the skeleton, 

Many a rib was snapped and gone, 

A limb was severed at the knee, 

'Twas mutilated savagely ! 

Broken in twain the shoulder blade, 

By wasting time and the sexton's spade. 

The skull was knocked in, like the roof 

Of yonder palace; what is proof, 

That's based on earth against the force 

Of all triumphant Time? that corse — 

That palace shell doth answer well — 

Those massive walls a roof disown, 

Broken are all its ribs of stone, 

And breaking still by rain and wind, 

'Tis deaf and dumb, and halt and blind, 

Like these bones that once formed man, 

Though fairly magnificent once in plan — ■ 

All like a vision hath ceased to be, 

Thou, Vallis Rosina, art — what I see ! 

Thou once wert learning's chosen seat, 
Contemplation's sublime retreat, 
And beneath thy sacred dome, 
Piety fixed her earthly home, 
Beneath thy high magnific arch, 
An army in battle array might march, 



Canto III. 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 125 

And in those mighty days of thine, 

Monarchs have bowed at thy sainted shrine. 

Thou wert highly held and dear, 

By the lettered sage of Manorbeer,- 3 

Of learning bright and courage bold, 

Who sought thy mitre e'en more than gold ; 

Thrice Cambrensis wends from home, 

T' assert his claim in distant Rome, 

And thrice returns in grief and pain, 

His troubles lost and his journeys vain ; 

Supple slaves and loreless things, 

The smiling parasites of kings, 

He saw advanced and in disgust, 

Cast down his honors to the dust, 

Disdaining, with majestic force, 

What flowed from such polluted source. 

Let merit smile and remark their lot ! 

Those sunshine minions are forgot, 

Gerald Cambrensis, thine is fame ; 

But where is the courtly favourite's name? 

In the family roll ! where should it be ? 

Oh illustrious inability ! 

Vallis Rosina ! that name to thee, 23 
Though sweet in sound and fair to see — 
That Roman name gave not thy fame, 
But thou from Dewi hast thy claim, 
Whom Cymru as her saint doth vaunt, 
Her far-famed high church-militant, 
The son of Xantus, Arthur's stem, 
A noble race that well did grace 
Old Cymru's diadem. 



126 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

Within thy bosom, Rosy Yale ! 
Sanctity's own secluded pale, 
Lived Cymru's son and Erin's seer, 
Th' Apostle Patrick who held thee dear, 
Till bidden hence mid care and strife, 
To teach in the west the word of life ; 
And he obeyed the high command, 

O'er the waters voyaged forth. 
And naturalized in Erin's land, 

Till men forgot his land of birth. 
After Patrick, thrice ten years, 
Britain's hope at length appears, 
Who turned her woes upon her foes, 

In well-fought battles, ever won, 
Who taught the truth to age and youth, 

The church's most able son. 
Ere Dewi's bright and glorious day, 
Pelagian heresies had sway, 
To a wild and mad degree, • 

And none could curb the heresy ; 
The Gallic teachers cross the main, 
The bull of Rome did roar in vain ; 
In vain did holy Lupus teach, 
St. Cadvan lecture, Germain preach, 
Clear reason show, and scripture prove — 
Yain, vain, was all, that ever strove. 
From evil zeals such force occurs, 
Like wind amid the fired furze, 
More strong it blows, it fiercer grows ; 

The north hath not a blast so strong, 
To blow, to nought, the fire caught, 
'Tis not its nature to retreat, 
'Twill firM invade the precious wheat ; 



Ccmto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 127 

E'en so with faith fanatic, wrong. 
At length the gifted David came, 
Atchieved on earth a deathless fame ; 
The forceful eloquence of truth, 
Persuaded age, persuaded youth, 
And more than all, persuaded those, 
The faith's deluded leading foes ; 
Conviction, like a bursting light, 
Downward shot from Heaven's height, 
With an instantaneous spring, 
As borne on some archangel's wing, 
Came o'er the wildered minds of men, 
And error's mist was banished then. 
But 'tis no easy task to paint 
The triumphs of our patron saint, 
As in the church so in the field, 
Opponents fail, and fall, and yield. 

Vallis Rosina — so lorn and lost ! 
From thee I turn to view thy coast ; 
Where Desolation so grimly smiles — 
Thy wild secluded rocky isles, 
In the wilderness of the sea, 
Where howl the storms so mournfully ; — 
Thy promontories, thy sunken rocks, 2 * 
That contemplation wins and shocks ; — 
When currants fierce and tempests pierce, 

The terror of the mariner, 
The beacon bright, with alarm's dread light, 

Like fate's own lurid star; 
The flashing of the roaring sea, 
And cave-echoed storm have charms for me, 



128 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III, 

For they have awful beauty — great 

And grand are the scenes amid wonder's state. 

But terror to-day has lost its sway, 

The storm doth sleep as it were slain, 

And never to ruffle the wave again. 

The pause of thought becomes a smile — 

The migratory sea-birds pile, 

O'er the sunny level deep, 

Upon the high acclivious steep, 

Of sullen Ramsey's holy isle, 
Where the ancient legend paints, 
There once were twenty thousand saints — 
Though now as many birds, or more, 
Possess what they did heretofore ; 
Is transmigration's doctrine true ? 
Come they here again to view 
Their earthly haunts in such a form, 
And scream their anguish to the storm. 
The Peregrine, once pride of kings, 25 
Sojourns here — spreads fearless wings, 
The Puffin and the Harry-bird, 
That breed in rabbit-warrens, herd, 
The Eligug, and Razor-bill, 
That nestless, breast the rock, come still, 
And still with April every year, 
The shrieking gull-birds wild, appear, 
Of varied plume and kind — huge flocks, 
And cover Ramsey's isle of rocks. 36 
Here, birds supplant the rule of men, 
And rats the rabbit's tiny den, 
Bare barren rocks, fertility, 
And harshness, what was sweet to see^ 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 129 



The waste of waters — waves saline, 

The Lowland Hundred's joining green. 

Below the rocks where prey-birds breed, 

The Peasant seeks his alga weed, 

The wholesome laver of the sea, 

On which he feeds salubriously. 

To barter born, by int'rest led, 

The trader seeks the sea-bird's egg, 

An humble merchandize, to vend 

In Bristol's crowded streets ; here wend 

The children of the lowly cot, 

The pebbled beach and rocky grot, 

Who search for shell-fish, day by day, 

As inland urchins a nutting stray, 

But less for strolling idleness, 

Than urged by necessity's real distress. 

I stood on high St. David's head. 

Serenity o'er land and sea, 
In sunshine charms was spread ; 

I looked o'er land, I looked o'er sea, 
And all was sweet as day could be ! 
But more on Ocean T s face my scene, 
To trace the Country that has been, 
The perished Lowlands. It was here, 
Embracing Ramsey isle, 'tis clear 
Cantrev y Gwaelod ended. Now 
I gazed far o'er the sea, below, 
And saw a vessel nearing shore, 
Courting breeze and laggard tide, 
To bear her to thy bay St. Bride : 
But like coquet ish mistresses, 



ISO LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

Whose science is to check and teaze, 
Gave ample scope, yet mocked the hope, 

At length departs the breeze. 
The little vessel woos the air 
Like a facinating fair,. 
That wastes each captivating art 
To win a trifler's worthless heart, 
Distending forth each catching charm, 
And then retreating with alarm — 
Now delights with choice of vesture, 
Anon with loveliness of gesture, 
And though to many an eye resistless, 
Still, still, the sought, is dull and listless. 
But now the idle hope is o'er,. 
Her loaded boat is now afloat, 
And gayly dips the oar. 
It is a pleasure party : they 
Now gladly landed in the bay, 
And for St. David's make their way. 



Canto III. 



'ay.) 



But there was one who lagged behind, 

Led by a boy, and he was blind — 

A Hash of thought that hath no name, 

As lightning vivid o'er me came, 

While recollections filled my mind, 

And strange associations kind; — 

I heard him utter to the boy, 

With animated face of joy, 

u Thank God ! thank God ! most blessed event I 

Methinks I now could die content — 

At length it is atchievedjby me, 

I've sailed o'er the Land beneath the Sea." 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 131 



I looked upon the ancient man, 
'Twas even he, most wished of me, 
Who Cantrev y Gwaelod's tale began. 

There was pleasure in the meeting, 

Mutual friendliness and greeting, 

And urged he much his deep regret, 

That he had lost me since we met ; 

In friendly converse hour and day, 

Winged with pleasure, flew away, 

But like sweet music's balmy strain, 

Fled to return more sweet again ! — 

Methinks I never shall forget him, 

A man was he, resolved to be 

As happy as the world would let him, 

And that is wisdom ; yet a sadness 

Would oft appear amid his gladness, 

And there was whimsicality, 

That pleasured him, and pleasured me — 

And most of all, his ruling taste 

To seek the spot that grandeur graced, 

Or mighty deeds in days of yore, — • 

His fancy would rebuild it o'er ; 

And old St. David's was a field 

That did reflection's harvest yield 

Right copiously ; 'twas strange to see 

That venerable ancient man, 

Led by a boy as day began, 

Through ruined cloister, cave, or tower, 

And thy once splendid palace, Gower ! 

And in lament's sad tone of speech, 

Narrate the history of each, 



132 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

While moralizing as he went, 
Of each disastrous turn's event. 
Once, to reflection left, alone 
He sat upon a mass of stone, 
Fallen from the time-breached wall, 
In Bishop Gower's banquet hall ; 
I joined him, and passed hours away, 
Secluded from the heat of day, 
Oft my observance aiding his, 
Comparing time that was, and is, 
And after queries of its state, 
Thus mourned he lorn Ty Dewi's fate. 

" And thou art fallen, crushed and pale, 

Sweet city of the Rosy Yale ! 

Oh thou, so mighty once, so great, 

When priestly power's lofty seat, 

And thought'st thou e'er to see such change ! 

Where be thy seneschals ? thy grange ? 

Thy courts, thy colleges, and towers, 

Thy martial guardians, civil powers ? 

'Twill set thee now for laughter's mark, 

To name thy Ranger of the park, 

Thy Mayor, Burgesses, Forester, 

And many a powered Officer, 

That gave thee station, pomp, and pride, 

When thou wert Grandeur's lofty bride, 

For thou art fallen, crushed, and pale, 

Fair city of the Rosy Vale ! 

Alas ! 'twas pitiful to gaze 
Upon the last expiring blaze 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA 133 



Of pride and splendour's beauteous city — 

Alas, alas, 'twas grievous pity ! 

Thy lands unfilled, beasts of the field, 

Passing through thy palace porch, 
Thy castle stript, the lying lipped,* 

Who robbed thy venerable church, 
Robbing thee still more of fame — of fame — 
Dishonour heaping on thy name, 
Thus stigmatizing thine and thee, 
Whence hath Ty Dewi ceased to be : — - 
Oh thou art fallen, crushed, and pale, 
Fair city of the Rosy Vale ! 

Resemblest thou thy rocking stone, 
Enormous, strange, but overthrown ! 
Vestiges of ancient british skill, 
Thrown off its poise at foemen's will. 
The victim, thou, of simony, 
And foreign robbers from the sea, 
The Saxon, Norman, and the Dane, 27 
Who on thy head did ruin rain ; 
While fire, earthquake, storm, and wave. 
Combined to sweep thee to thy grave ; 
And thou wert plundered by thine own, 
Who rilled thy episcopal throne ; — 
Thy glory shorn, thy state disgraced, 
And left to ruin, rack, and waste ! 
Oh imfamy's worst tainted shame. 
For aye on Barlow's scoundrel name, 28 

* Bishop Barlow, whose letter to Cromwell in 1539 to translate the 
See to Carmarthen, is a farrago of falsehoods to vilify the Welsh. 



134 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Oanto III, 

The liar, parasite, and knave ! 
Base slanderer of good and brave — 
Dishonest pickthank priest, and worse ! 
On thee, on thee be Cymru's curse — 
Forerunner of a selfish tribe 
Of simonists, to whom ascribe 
We thy destruction, and bewail 
Thee city of the Rosy Yale. 

Miraculous Lechlavar's stone, 29 

Is to thy present race unknown ; 

Beneath another structure now, 

So stilly doth thy Alan flow, 

Thy bankless Alan — rude and wild, 

With weeds of negligence defiled ; 

And crowning all that's vile and harsh, 

The Rosy Vale is now a marsh ! 

Thy crosses — sculptured pillars fair, 

With beauteous tops erect in air, 

For years, for centuries, unseen, 

Are named as things that once have been; 

Thy hallowed shrine, and sainted springs, ^ 

The wonder and delight of kings, > 

But fill the roll of perished things. j 

Thy sumptuous porches, fair arcades, 

Quadrangles spacious, vast parades, 

Thy range of princely structures rare, 

Arches, columns, fretwork fair, 

Vast windows, beautiful to see, 

With mullions rich and tracery ; 

Lofty niches proudly wrought, 

With statues of the mighty fraught : — 



Canto III. 



LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 135 



The village cot with rudest latch, 
Earthen floor, and roof of thatch, 
Yield a contrast — and supplant, 
All, all, that thou didst proudly vaunt ! 
And thou art as a doubted tale, 
Lost city of the Rosy Vale ! 

The works of man thus have their day, 
The works of God will last for aye ! 
Like the tenant of the tomb, 
Perished is th' Ephesian dome, 
But the far more ancient sea, 
Leapeth, gay, and lustily, 
As strong in nerve and vigour yet^ 
As on the sun's first rise and set : 
The city of the hundred gates,* 
Hath perished — oh the fates ! the fates I 
Such granite, joined with bitumen — 
But 'twas the work of man, and vain. 
The mountains and the vales appear 
As fresh — -as beauteous — every year, 
Oh they do ever gaily smile, 
Though seniors to each antique pile ; 
The works of man thus have their day, 
The works of God will last for aye. 
Alas for youth ! its joy, its hope, 
Imagination's boundless scope — 
The raptures of the sanguine mind — 
Alas to think they're as the wind, 
Baseless — -nerved with fleeting might — 
Or fraught with pestilential blight — 

* Babylon. 



136 LAND BENEATH THE SEA Canto III, 

That all our years of toil, of pain, 
Are fruitless, profitless, and vain — ■ 
And then philosophy's relief 
Is but " be reconciled to grief." 

" In my wild mad youth," quoth he, 

" When rapture leapt, and judgment slept, 

And sight was mine, ere yet I wept, 

And all shone lovelily, 

In Pant-y-Blodau'st joyous vale, 

Whose maids and swains are bright and hale, 

It was my lot at Llyn-y-coed,J 

(The lord's of that fair land's abode,) 

To see a creature sweet and young, 

From mortal birth as ever sprung ; 

Some said she wandered in her thought, 

And some averred she was distraught, 

Nor do I to this hour know, 

Whether it was so or no ; 

But well I know her ways were wild, 

And she was beauty's brightest child, 

And that the malady's impress, 

Gave her more winning loveliness. 

If malady was her's — for me, 

In sooth methinks it could not be, 

I oft had seen her by the lake, 

Her gentle walk at even take, 

One even there it so befel, 

I told my love — she heard it well — 



+ Pant-y-BIodau, signifies the Flowery Plain, or Plain of Blossoms. 
'I Llyn-y-coed, the Lake of the Wood. 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 137 

And with a dear simplicity, 

She said she oft had dreamt of me — 

6 And they were dreams of pleasantness,' 

Quoth she, with looks that spoke no less. 

I wished her lowly born as me, 

But heiress of that land was she, 

The daughter of a stern proud man, 

I've often thought his wily plan 

It was that banished every view 

That youthful hope before me threw, 

But still it rests a mystery, 

Who 'twas so deeply injured me, 

And from the soul's deliriumed height 

Of bliss, cast forth to ruinous blight. 

u Eternal God ! those blessed hours I" 
Exclaimed he, venting sorrow's showers, 
His frame emotion strongly shook, 
While deepest anguish marked his look.-*? 
" She should have been my wedded love, 
(Vain, vain, against my fate I strove !) 
If hapless lot, sweet girl ! was thine, 
It should have been no fault of mine — 
But thou wert happy in the end, 
That thought, that thought, will ever rend ! 
For thou didst wed another — so, 
'Twas quickly given me to know, 
While I trepanned by ruffian band, 
Was sent a captive o'er the seas, 
And troubles came, too wild to jiame, 
Native darkness and disease ; 

T 



138 LAND BENEATH THE SEA. Canto III. 

For blindness long has cursed our line, 
Their sufferings, all, ne'er equalled mine. 
The secret influence employed, 
To part me from all social ties, 
(Mysterious prisoner — heart-destroyed — ) 
At length as strangely dies : 
And I returned a sightless man, 
Friendless, homeless, sorrow-worn, — 
A hopeless wretch of aspect wan, 
With none to greet me on return. — 
All my friends were in the grave, 
My rights usurped while o'er the wave, 
And she — the centre-thought of years, 
Round which all others rolled in tears— 
Sorrow's orbits round a sun, 
So sweet — so bright — the beauteous one ! 
My heart's dear love of early day — 
Of her no mortal tongue could say." 

He said, and sadly smote his breast, 
As one in heart and soul distressed ; 
And 'twas a wondrous sight I ween, 
To see him so — erst so serene. 

Each soothing phrase I straight employed, 
Suggested by the kindest feeling, 

When, breathless, in burst Blany Lloyd, 
And in her hand the blind boy Celin ! 
Amazement stole my voice away, 

A statue of astounded stare — 
The woman in the cloak of grey, 
Most strange to think, and strange to say, 

Was also by me there ! 



Canto III. LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 139 

She stood before the ancient man. 
He knew her voice— she thus began. 
" 'Tis you are he I've sought so long, 
One of mine, 'twas, did you wrong, 
But think of her you loved — 

("Forbear!" 
He cries, a I see her sun-bright hair !") 
And know, my brother was her sire, 
(The heir of all his riches I, 
Until his grandchild meets my eye,) 
And when he sent you o'er the seas, 
Soon from him fled that child of his, 
By you, by you, alas, undone, 
She died, but gave the world a son, 
He lives" — 

" My father !" Celin cries, 
And 'spite of darkness, forward flies, 
Their sobs alone, the silence break, 
They're heart to heart, and cheek to cheek. 



THE NOBLE OF NATURE. 



The world is grown so bad 

That Wrens may prey where Eagles may not perch ; 

Since every Jack became a Gentleman, 

There's many a gentle person made a Jack. 

Shakspeare. 



PREFACE. 



" The Noble of Nature" is here substituted for 
" Howel Sele," which was promised the Reader in 
the first Prospectus, but a part of that Manuscript 
having been unluckily mislaid, its publication at pre- 
sent is unavoidably delayed. The Noble of Nature, 
it will be immediately perceived, is but a thin adum- 
bration of a character, or rather a chain of corres- 
ponding materials, to connect a parcel of smaller 
Poems together. 



SONNET, 

Introductory to " The Noble of Nature.' 



Necessity ! thy hard and grievous yoke, 
Imposed on the hapless of the human race, 

Hath many a bright and gallant spirit broke, 

Oft galled the free neck with the slave's disgrace,-— 
Oft crippled nerve and sinew in the race 

Of manly ambition, by thy numbing stroke, 
And stamped misanthropy on friendship's face : 

Thou to the earth hast crushed the good and brave, 
Whom none save thee could conquer ! — oh by thee 

His hopes, his loves, are stricken to the grave 

While useless tears his with'ring laurels lave, 
And hiss on the dying fires of energy : 

Ah, wherefore Poverty, lovest thou to wrest 

And dash from the honest brow the high aspiring crest? 



THE NOBLE OP NATURE 



He seemed as a god midst the children of men, 
At times he's a hunter o'er mountain and glen — 
At times he's the lover — a soldier at times, 
And each avocation he graces, sublimes ! — 
So princely in habits, discourse, and in stature,* 
The gen'rous have named him the Noble of Nature. 

The Noble of Nature was lowly of birth, 
Integrity's fav'rite ! with true soul of worth. 
The Arts and the Sciences smiled on his youth, 
And his was humility, wisdom, and truth ; 
But the Noble of Nature was born to endure, 
And stood in his nation a stranger, and poor. 

And he said in the depth of his bosom's dismay, 
" I'll hence o'er the ocean to lands far away ; 
A soul that is gen'rous, an arm that is brave, 
Shall seek better fortune in lands o'er the wave, 
While the great of my country but patronize slaves, 
The land of my birth yields the basest of graves." 



146 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

He paused ere he went — on his heart was a spell — 
And who that has loved but its nature can tell ? 
'Twas shot from her bright eyes — his own lady love — 
The greatest, the wisest, like weakliness prove ; 
And base is the stoical cynic who braves 
The bright eyes of Beauty ! be his desert caves. 

He loved with the ardour of passion's wild zest, 
Affection and Truth fixed their throne in his breast ; 
And Nature took pleasure her Noble to grace 
With the beauties of manhood, in figure and face ; 
Yet a sad tortured victim to Beauty's caprice, 
The Noble of Nature's a stranger to peace. 

Nature's own son ! he was gallant of form, 

Serene as the vale-breeze, sublime as the storm ; 

Philosophy's calmness and energy's fire 

Varied his being — and poesy's lyre 

'Twas his to attune to the praise of the fair, 

And thus ran the theme that foreran his despair. — 



MY CHOSEN. 



Had Eve, when newly formed by hands divine, 
But tempted Adam with a look like thine — 
Tho' doomed the loss of Eden to sustain, 
The happy sinner had been curst in vain ; 
He still had found new Edens in thy charms, 
And more than Paradise — within those arms! 



Oh thou, of choicest form and stature, 
Sweet pleasing face and winning feature I 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 147 

Oh blessed as God's most favoured creature. 

Is he that gains thee ! 
A macula on face of Nature, 

The wretch that pains thee. 

Thou art fair — and fair befal thee ! 
Good art thou — may goodness wall thee 
Round about ! no ill enthral thee, 

Thou loved — thou dear one ! 
Him believe, who so does call thee, 

A fond sincere one ! 

Tenderness is thine, and sweetness, 

And thine — (no humble boast,) is neatness, 

Patience thine, and mental greatness, 

Delightful Woman ! 
Who doubts, to sweeten life thy meetness, 

In soul is no man. 

Thy sweet domestic manners chaste, 

By intellectual leisure graced, — 

Thou stately formed, and Grecian faced ! 

Though ne'er presuming, 
Are still more finished to my taste, 

Thus unassuming. 



*»■ 



In thee an union rare we see. 
Of courteous sweet Urbanity 
Espoused to brave Sincerity, 

The princely browed ! 
Serenely soft, yet greatly free, 

But never proud. 



148 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Thou'rt like an apple-tree in bloom. 
Of lovely look and sweet perfume I 
Or brilliant star that doth, illume 

The skies, alone ; 
Or like a song-bird, fair of plume, 

And dulcet tone. 

Oh thou art more than words can paint ! 
My hues are pale — my pencil faint — 
Expression fails, to phrases quaint, 

Unworthy me ; 
I sink beneath the task, sweet saint ! 

Depicting thee. 

But I can love thee, sweet one ! better 
Than those who choicest phrase can utter ; 
Affection's tongue, will passion fetter : 

But vision's sense 
Is in the swimming eye a letter — 

Oh read me thence ! 

Words wrong the gust, the sweet amaze, 
I feel when in thy face I gaze, 
That all intelligence pourtrays, 

A faithful mirror ! 
Which e'en thy inmost soul conveys ! — 

Thou hid'st no error. 

Thy converse yields me such delight, 
As in the source of love and light, 
The sainted, in their father's sight, 
For aye enjoy, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 149 

When bliss is at its acme height, 
Too pure to cloy. 

No element but I could spare, 

Fire, water, earth, or air, 

Props of existence, dear one ! ere 

Thy loss endure; — 
Aye, for thee could I almost dare 

My faith abjure — 

For thou art charity ! and queen 
Of gen'rous thought, of soul serene 5 
And thou dost ever bravely lean 

To pity's side ! 
By thee, the sons of grief and pain. 

Were ne'er denied. 

Enthuasism, wild and warm, 

I breathe — -aye, joy's delirium charm, 

For all my woes a partial balm — 

When my poor lays, 
Well-judging maid ! of wisdom calm, 

Do meet thy praise. 

For thou would'st rather lose thy friend, 
Than with truthless tongue commend, 
Where merit is not ; I'm not pain'd 

To hear thee blame ; 
Thy taste hath often taught me mend, 

Or change my aim. 

Wert thou but mine, — in strength or weakness — 
Gay or sad — in health or sickness — 



150 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

I'd cherish thee, with patient meekness, 

And manly kindness, 
Oh when I failed, might Heaven's greatness, 

Doom me blindness ! 

Yet no — I wish thee better — she 
Who'd be a Heaven on earth to me, 
I would not lead to poverty ! 

'Twere selfish vice : 
And grateful were, sweet Girl ! for thee, 

Self sacrifice. 

I'd be in self-denial brave, 

Till passion wore me to the grave, 

Thee from the slightest pang to save — 

And I'd befriend thee, 
If wedded to false wealthy slave, 

To death defend thee. 

Ah now, each fervid burst of gladness, 
Reflection checks, and augurs sadness 
Of dread, severest kind — a badness, 

In fortune's store, 
When thou to me — ah worse than madness ! 

Shalt be no more. 

When thou — my beauteous monitress ! 
Shalt fail my eyes, my ears, to bless — 
Nor banter, in sweet playfulness, 

Then stopping short, 
As thou hast fancied my distress, 

And vow 'twas sport. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 151 

I weep in weakness when I think, 

Of sorrow's draughts I've drank and drink, 

And in despondence oft I sink, 

To see refilled 
The often-emptied vase — I shrink — 

No more wild willed. 

'Tis not that wealthy friends have frowned — 
Not that I wander, one unowned, 
O'er cursed, briared, fruitless ground, 

On life's rough road, 
Nor is it faithless friendship's wound, 

My soul doth goad. 

The far-spread earth holds not a spot 
For me — nor house nor home my lot — 
Yet 'tis not that — a peasant's cot 

My head to shield 
Would not grieve — my heart is hot I 

To fate I yield. 

With her, my bosom's chosen queen, 
The sweet, the dear, domestic scene, 
Earth's Paradise, mild ! blest ! serene ! 

- Must ne'er be mine — 
I'm doomed a wretch, by malice keen, 
E'er to repine. 

And do I see thee now ? — I do ! 
That beauteous face — -those eyes of blue — 
And this cold hand I press, so true, — 
And will they vanish ? 



152 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

And wilt thou veil thee from my view. 
My true heart banish ? 

Oh I shall be — I know it! — soon 
As one who gazed upon the moon 
In adoration, hailing " Lune ! 

Sweet Queen of Night," 
Till clouds shall pass — then welcome ruin 

To reason's light. 

Like one, so crushed for deadly sin, 
That had outlived all friends, all kin, 
All desolate without — within — 

The Roman curse ! 
Calamity, in Fortune's spleen, 

Framed never worse. 

Or like one, from some planet thrown 
Upon a desert drear- — alone — 
Unknowing all — to all unknown— 

That memory deems ; 
Reflecting things that merely shone, 

And shine in dreams. 

I know I shall be mad — ah woe ! 
What am I oft ? what am I now ; 
If Peace will fly, why Reason go ! 

Go forever ! 
Thy tyrant reign I would not know 

When ye sever. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 153 

Oh true-love hath flown from the children of men ! 
And nestles with stock-doves in woodland and glen ; 
Sires are ambitious, and weak daughters yield, 
From heiress of acres to gleaner of field, 
The blast of despair o'er the true heart is hurled, 
The lover's a viclim to ways of the world. 

And the ways of the world, they are arduous to learn, 
To breasts that are gentle, and true hearts will yearn, 
And Constancy yielded to Heaven her breath, 
At the last martyr-lover's wild pitiless death ; 
Sweet Constancy long in high Heaven will bide, 
If waits she till Love joins a bridegroom and bride. 

Her cottage- song never will Constancy sing, 
To the heart of the swain, like the nestling of Spring, 
Her song of affection is scorned of the proud, 
And how can sweet Constancy sing in her shroud ? 
There's one sheds hot tears o'er her perishing corse. 
('Tis the Noble of Nature !) with plaintive discourse. 

Love dies once an age, and a new Love is born, 
The modes of the old is the junior's scorn, 
A bouquet of fragrance, and Nature's bright hues, 
' Did the Love of these days in his childhood refuse ; 
Waspish and peevish, he turned to behold 
And smiled at the City-craft's bauble of gold. 

He frowned on the valleys and smiled on the city, 
And drove from his side true Fidelity and Pity ; 
Int'rest and Fashion, with Splendour and Pride, 
Cold-bosomed powers ! their presence supplied ; 



154 NOBLE OF NATURE, 

They voted romantic and silly his bowers, 

And lodged him in gem-studded high city towers,. 

" Oh who is that peasant who singeth so true ?" — 
Cried the Noble of Nature, the land passing through, 
To his bark, for the sea, o'er his loved Cymro valleys— 
" Who is that minstrel who sings 'neath the sallies?" 
u Some poor crazy rhymester !" in accents so gruff, 
Cried the yeoman, " he sings of true-love, and such 
stuff," 

A,nd the Noble of Nature reclines on the green, 

He envies that harper of bosom serene, 

With spirit depressed, and the frequent burst sigh, 

A pang at the heart, and a tear in his eye, 

His sad love-lorn look did the kind minstrel move, 

As he said " Sir, I sing of 



MY LOWLY LOVE." 



This is the prettiest little low-born lass 
That ever ran upon the greensward ! nothing 
She does, or seems, but smacks of something better 
Than herself, too noble for this place. 

Shakspeare, 



My lowly Love's a Cambrian maid, 
In Nature's gentlest charms arrayed ; 
Though strange to other ones she be, 
My lowly Love is kind to me : 
And I am by the proud ones scoffed, 
Because I seek her converse oft ; 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 155 

111 nature whispers cruel things, 
Thence, and oft her bosom stings : 
My fondest aims are, to remove 
Those pangs from her — my lowly Love. 

My lowly Love is blithe and young, 
The sweetest maid the maids among ; 
My lowly Love is mild and meek, 
Quick rush the blushes o'er her cheek, 
And timid as the little wren 
Is she, to shun the gaze of men ; 
The jetty eye-lash quick to drop, 
To stare at her when any stop ; 
For many wonder and approve, 
To see one like my lowly Love. 

The sweetest songs that e'er were sung 

By cherry lips, or mellow tongue, 

So tender, yet so artlessly 

Thus sings my lowly Love to me : 

So lovely looks her face the while 

The full black eye — the winning smile — 

That like some fond enthusiast, 

Whose look on visioned Saint is cast ; 

I cannot turn, I cannot move, 

But raptured eye my lowly Love. 

My friends, because they're higher born, 
My lowly Love deride and scorn ; 
But while smiles and welcomes she, 
Their disapproval's nought me, 
(For I've found kindred streams of blood. 
To me are but a hostile flood ; 



156 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

My race's name I'd fain disown, 
My heart has withered in their frown :) 
What can their hate ? can it erase 
The seal of beauty from her face ; 
The depth of soul that's in her eye, 
Or crush the form that, aye, can vie 
With the proudest ones that move ? 
It cannot harm my lowly Love. 

So singular of thought and ways, 
With wonder many at her gaze ; 
Each varying mode though she reject, 
Unprimmed, she moves in u sweet neglect" 
In native manners, simple dress, 
Half rural lass — half qnakeress ; 
Untaught, some think her as a fool — 
Some think her wild beyond all rule — 
But free to Nature's impulse she, 
And known — aye truly known to me. 
Oh she's my ruby, diamond, pearl, 
My playful, modest, artless girl ! 
My cheering lark, my gentle dove, 
My all on earth — my lowly Love ! 

With pride, with love, with joy I tell, 
My lowly Love doth all things well ; 
On all she does there is a blessing, 
Her pure taste too, is past expressing ; 
A rural wreath, her brows become 
Far more than jewelled crowns would some, 
The plainest weed thrown o'er her shoulders, 
Becomes a scarf to all beholders : 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 157 

The humblest covering on her feet 

Shews as buskined Dian's, neat ; 

Her kerchief crossed — her Cambrian beaver 5 

O'er raven locks, that carl forever — 

From foot to crown, below, above, 

Oh lovely looks my lowly Love ! 

Her watchet Kirtle fits her well, 

It seems as made of heather-bell, 

Most blue and bright on mead or heath, 

And then her lively green beneath ! — 

My lowly Love's nor short nor tall, 

Her ancle's slim, her foot is small, 

Her apron string round sweet small waist, 

Her only cestus, tightly braced ; 

And above it softly heaves 

A breast that ill thought never grieves ; 

A sweeter hand ne'er fitted glove 

Than her's — mine own dear lowly Love! 

My lowly Love hath many wrongs 
From envious eyes, malicious tongues, 
But whosoe'er would slander her, 
Would tales 'gainst heavenly ones aver ; 
And oh, the more 'gainst her they say, 
More lovely she, more hideous they. 
As from the swan the waters fly, 
And leave the oil-laved plumage dry ; 
So Slander's venom, past all cure, 
Would stain her name — but leaves her pure ! 
The christian maxim — good for ill — 
My lowly Love observeth still, 



158 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

For she is meeker than the doe, 
Tho' wet her eye, and breast may throe ; 
And savage hearts, more savage prove, 
Because so good's my lowly Love. 

I grieved her once — and much I shame 
My blameful folly now to name ; 
But name it like true penitent, 
That woos his penance, punishment. 
A jealous pang once made me smart, 
And like an adder stung my heart ; 
Thence like a poisoned one I pined, 
And spoke, and looked, and felt unkind : 
To hide my pain, in vain I strove 
From her — my tender lowly Love. 

My lowly Love grew sad with fears, 
He face waxed pale — I saw her tears — 
I heard her sob — I could not speak — 
1 kissed the tears from off her cheek, 
And vowed I ne'er would give again 
My lowly Love a moment's pain — 
And while mine eye the dear one sees — 
While on earth I move and breathe, 
Nor sign, nor sound of mine shall prove 
Unkindly to my lowly Love. 

The dull, churlish yeoman, now looked on the swain, 
And curled up the proud lip of scorn and disdain, 
At the strain of the minstrel who sung charms ideal, 
His tacit reproaches the harper could feel ; 
Oh list to my lay ! cried the string-sweeping bard, 
Here's a song to your taste, for 'tis charmless and hard. 



NOBLE OF NATURE, 159 



THE WOES OF THE COTTAGE. 

They err, deeply err, who in rapturous strain, 
All pleasure attach to the sons of the plain ; 
Seek highland or valley of Wales, they'll disclose 
The cottage so envied ! the cottage has woes ; 
Scenes of Arcadia, in poesy fair, 
Supplanted by poverty, labour, and care ; 
Reality shrinks from such vain dreams of dotage, 
Keen, keen are the woes, the wild woes of the cot- 
tage. 

When Winter is raging with fearfullest ire, 
The furze of the mountain, uprooted for fire, 
The cottager gathers, which burns quick as straw, 
The earth-floor's a mud-pool, all drenched with a 

thaw ! 
Cold drops from the thatch over table and bed, 
The soul-piercing draughts, smiting Happiness dead ! 
Half-clad trembling urchins growl o'er their scant 

pottage ; — 
Keen, keen are the woes, oh the woes of the cottage. 

And yet is the cottage no scene of despair, 

For Love, though in misery, oh true love is there ! 

It smiles through its tears, and it sings through lis 

groans, 
And sweet Pleasure is not scared away by its moans; 
Oh Love, angel Love! wheresoe'er thou mayst dwell r 
Thy eye-glance shall banish the darkness of hell ; 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 160 

Whatever vicissitudes Time shall allot age, 
Thou canst soften the labourer's lot in a cottage. 

The cottage has virtues — their contrast too, swell, 
The cottage has vices, base vices as well, 
The crime of the poacher scarce merits the name, 
The law that he breaks is his country's worst shame; 
But the hedge-plucking villain, the thief of the fold, 
The horse-stealing felon, as murderer cold — 
Toss-pots so valiant in quarrel and sottage, 
Rudely base is their vice, hapless sons of cottage. 

Ah ! who then can covet the poor peasant's lot ? 
Turmoil and misery await on the cot ; 
Sickness and beggary — his rent in arrear- — 
Driven forth by hard landlord in season severe ! 
A heart-broken outcast that sufferings decay, 
A mere beast of burthen forth hunted away ! 
His parish-bred young ones — Calamity's hot rage — 
Keen, keen, are the woes, the dread woes of the 
cottage. 

The Noble of Nature with generous pain, 

Averted his face, as averse to the strain, 

" Alas, 'tis a picture too mournfully true ! 

But the strain of endearment and kindness renew, 

Reveal me life's flowers — I mournfully know 

Where the nettles, the briars, and brambles do grow." 

" I'll sing you the song I repeat every day, 
A warm heart 'twas framed it— though simple the 
lay; , 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 161 

And there is a face that looks sweetly on mine, 
Her heart's pulse responsively beats to each line, 
With a tear on her cheek as the lily dew bright, 
When closes my song with the sad words — 



GOOD NIGHT. 



Good night ! good night ! — parting is such sweet sorrow, 
I could say " good night !" until 'twere morrow. 

Shakspeare, 



Good night my love ! farewell my dear ! 
I've said it oft, with sigh and tear, 
Aching heart, and faltering tongue, 
When our affection, love, was young; 
But now with hope's most vivid cheer — 
Good night my love ! farewell my dear ! 

Yet call those words the mournful tone — 
My own sweet girl — my own ! my own ! 
And though our sundered hours be few 
There's languor in the brief adieu — 
But soon return's blessed hour shall cheer, 
Good night my love ! farewell my dear ! 

And yet 'tis sweet, 'tis passing sweet ! 
Thus grieved to part, rejoiced to meet ! 
Oh never love, 'twixt thee and me, 
Exists indifferent apathy ! 
Familiar still the smile and tear, 
Good night my love ! farewell my dear ! 

Y 



162 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

We've said so oft — and turned to go — 
And yet returned — to sever, slow — 
One more fond look — one kiss — embrace — 
Warm heart to heart, face pressing face ; — 
A footstep warns ! — the world's cold jeer 
Would mock our love — good night my dear! 

Aye — these are laughed at by the wise — 
The pang of heart, and dew of eyes, 
Anxious throes, or rapture's zest, 
Wild throb, or glow of lover's breast; — 
Be we affection's fools ! nor fear ; 
Good night my love ! farewell my dear. 

The Noble of Nature departs from the pair. 
With visage of sadness, and bosom of care, 
More light grew his spirits as crossed he the dales 
Of Plenty's own Anglesea — garden of Wales ! 
And turning o'er Mona the retrospect view, 
Sung thus its beauties, but said not "adieu." 



ANGLESEA. 



Mon, mam Gymru ! 



Oh ! delightful Isle of Anglesea, 
Rich Plenty's loved abode ! 

Where laughing Ceres joyously 
Doth harvest sledges load ! - 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 163 

Thine, thine, is pleasant pasturage, 

Where niveous flocks range free ! 
Fair's each sea scene — meads, hillocks green, 

Sweet Isle of Anglesea ! 

Salubrious Isle of Anglesea ! 

That wholesome breezes sweep, 
And rosy Health in purity 

Breathes over from the deep ! -— 
Thy sons are strong in manliness 

No hearts more kind can be, 
Soft, fresh, and fair, thy maidens rare, 

Sweet Isle of Anglesea ! 

Oh ! plenteous Isle of Anglesea ! 1 

When famine rules the year, 
And stalks o'er Wales, ne'er mangles thee, 

Nor daunts thy hearted cheer ; 
Then thou'rt the Land of hope to all, 

The gen'ral granary ! 
Gay garden sweet, with bliss replete 

Dear Isle of Anglesa ! 

Oh ! costliest Isle of Anglesea, 

Old Cymru's brilliant gem ! 
A sparklet Gwynedd* owned in thee. 

Pride of her diadem ! 
Oh ! Mona, beauteous Mona, hail ! 

Fond Ocean's arms clasp thee ; 
For Druid lore in days of yore 

Well prized was Anglesea. 

* Gwynedd, the Welsh name of North Wales. 



164 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Why pauses the generous wand'rer in tears, 
When the coast and the bark for departure he nears ? 
Those pangs of the heart and strong sighs of the soul, 
Those rare tears of manhood o'er pale cheeks that roll? 
What hath so suddenly stricken him wan ? 
'Tis not faithless woman, or treacherous man. 

'Tis not broken frienship, or what may more move, 

'Tis not selfish woman capricious in love, 

And yet, sooth to say, 'tis a cause, tis a cause, 

On leaving his birth-land may well bid him pause : — 

He thought of the ever-loved scenes of his child- 

hood! 
Thy valleys Traloneth ! thy mountain and wild- 
wood. — 

And he said "I would see ye — dear haunts of my 

youth!" 
And he wends to old Cymry's fair vales of the south, 
Though ye boast not a roof nor an acre of mine, 
Yet, land of my birth, my affections are thine ! 
I'll pause on your charms — then with wild lightning 

speed, 
Hey ! for the the ocean ! — and farewell indeed. 

O'er mountains of sunshine and valleys of shadow 
He reached the fair Wye, and the cursed Aberedw, 
The traitor's vile adder-nest ! mighty no more, 
Now banned in its fame for its baseness of yore : 
But turning to Llanvair, oh bright beams his eye 
As he sees, and thus sings the loved Sevi-lan-Gwy. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 165 



THE SEVI-LAN-GWY. 2 

Dear was the laurel to nations of yore, 

The hero's proud brow to encircle ; 
The leaf of the vine, bacchanalians wore, 
And lovers, soft lovers ! aye ever adore 
The chaplet of Venus, the myrtle ! 
The brow of the bard wore the ever-green bay, 
Young virgins and priestesses, flowerets gay, 
And mourners in garments so woefully dan, 
Affected the cypress and fled from the sun : 
But I nor affect nor the myrtle nor vine, 
The cypress nor bay nor the laurel divine, 
In the rough clime of Britain that languish and die, 
More dear to my heart the Welsh Sevi-lan-Gwy.* 



Oh pass not unmarked, tho' it sprouts among weeds, 

O'ershadowed, forlorn, and neglected, 
That herb midst the wild-grass and high hollow reeds, 
The loved meed of Fame, once, for martial deeds, 

Though now it droops low and dejected : 
(So low, so dejected, unnoted and lorn 
Art thou, modest worth ! in obscurity born — 
Thou, like the meek Sevi, midst nettles shalt bloom, 
The sun of the universe shines on thy tomb, 
In life no star twinkles to brighten thy care, 
Scarce Hope's lightning gleam in thy night of Despair.) 

* The pronunciation of this word is Sevce-lan-Goo-ce, the Welsh at 
being always used precisely like the English oo. 



166 NOBLE OF JfATURE. 

The tale of that herb the old Cambrian ask, 
He'll resolve it thee as no tedious task, 
Tell thee in far or near region 'twill grow, 
Wherever sun scorches, wherever winds blow, 
Where the stern solstice of winter most freezes, 
Or Love's mellow clime midst the gentlest of breezes. 
Ask the old Cambrian — he'll tell thee with pride, 
Though he boast, in his verity still confide — 
Though flush on his cheek the enthusiast's glows, 
'Tis the patriot's warmth — oil sweetly it shews ! 
Wild ardour shall glisten and smile in his eye — 
Reflection shall check it — 'twill end in a sigh — 
And perchance he may weep as he makes reply, 
" 'Tis the wild leek of Cambria — the Sevi-lan-Gwy !" 

Fierce merciless Winter with dire sleety breath, 

(Of aspect petrific and sallow,) 
Had breathed o'er all Nature the cold damp of Death? 
And the meads, hills, and woods, looked wild as the 
heath / 

In a vile blighted garb of yellow ; 
When Cambria's heroes returned from the fight, 
To the proud sounds of harps, with steps of delight, 
Gallantly carolled the patriot throng, 
" Oh victory ! victory !" still ran the song ; 
While rocks subterraneous caught the bold strain, 
And a victory ! victory 1" answered again. 
The prince oft a look to the right and left cast, 
By rock-bedded Wye as the warriors passed, 
Seeking a witherless leaf or a flower, 
That flourished in winter, to hallow the hour ; 
But flower, nor tree-leaf, nor aught that was green, 
By prince or by soldier or peasant was seen 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 167 

Till further advanced on the banks of the Wye, 
All eyes fell with joy on the Sevi-lan-Gwy ! 

The monarch then halted his army around 
The spot where the Sevi was groAving, 
" Oh lovely art thou, on the wild blighted ground, 
Fresh green herb of winter — be ever renowned ! 

Renowned be the stream by thee flowing ! — 
Bold Cambria's emblem thou henceforth shalt be, 
The great-hearted hero shall pant yet for thee. 
His arm shalt thou nerve, and give edge to his sword, 
The signal for onset — the strong battle word ! 
Not mighty Cadwalader's dragon gory, 
Shall lovelier shew in our future story ! 
Oh wither and die to the touch of the slave, 
But flourish in pride on the brows of the brave !" 
Cried the prince, as he lifted the Sevi on high, 
And each helmet was decked with the Sevi-lan-Gwy. 

By the side of his prince then the car-borne bard 

Struck his harp to the Sevi's praises, 
He sung a new son worthy highest reward, 
The elated monarch, with dearest regard, 

To his brow the green Sevi raises. 
Many a maiden and many a young man, 
From fair Aberhonddu,* at foot of the Yann,i 
Aberedw, 3 Llanvair,* and many a town, 
Met and accompanied these sons of renown ; 
And many a brave man with rapture hath said, 
" My Sevi of honor I share with my maid !" 

* Aberhonddu, the Welsh name of Brecon. 
+ Vann — the Beacons, a high mountain close to the town of Brecon. 



168 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

While beauty's sweet blushes have faded and risen. 

As bosoms of softness with Sevi they'd dizen, 

The summer's choice flowers soon met with neglect, 

The softest and gayest the virgins reject, 

More dear to each heart and more fair to each eye, 

The flower of heroes — the Sevi-lan-Gwy ! 

Thus grew it alone on the banks of the Wye, 

E'er regardless of Season's rigour, 
Though now undistinguished in gardens 'twill lie, 
And often surprize the lone traveller's eye, 
On the soil-less rocks in its vigour : — 
It blossoms in summer, in winter 'tis green, 
'Tis covered with floods oft, and scarce to be seen, 
Yet straight through its surface like war-pikes 'twill 

shoot, 
Deep fixed in the rock its undying root, 
And strong must the grip be — the arm must have 

might 
That drags the deep rock-clutching root up to sight . 
Encrowned was the head, and the firm hand was mailed 
Of him who to rend from its bed first assailed, 
Its high liberal founder and royal donor, 
Who consecrated it first to brave Honour, 
Such was his tug's effort, and such was the shock, 
As forcibly rent from a huge massive rock 
A crag by some monstrous and dread giant hand ; 
First split by the lightning's fierce fiery brand. 
The once hardy Briton's true semblance it is — 
Unyielding to seasons, the firm soul was his, 
Nor flood nor the frost, nor the nerve-slacking sun, 
The dread path of honour could e'er cause him shun, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 169 

So grows the sleek Sevi — no clime bids it die — 
Once Victory's plume, the green Sevi-lan-Gwy ! 

My country — when Liberty tripped o'er thy hills, 
When thy bards and thy heroes flourished, — 
Ere a heart-streaming victim to War's dire ills, 
When Innocence sported around thy fair fields, 

Ere thy gen'rous patriots perished, — - 
When Simplicity lived and thy modes were plain, 
Ere sons of the Sais usurped thy domain, — 
Ere the Sais's fierce homicide — fell vulture king ! 
His thrice num'rous host to subdue thee did bring, 
Ere the cold-blooded fiend did that burning wrong, 
Dealt death to thy genius — thy sons of song 5 
Oh then seeked thy patriots with hearts beating high, 
The green immarcessible Sevi-lan-Gwy. 

My nation — her genius in sorrow droops, 

The string of harp soundeth heavy, 
O'er the markless graves of her heroes she stoops, 
The ghosts of the slain flock around her in troops, 

And wail for the land of the Sevi ; 
Cambria, high famed in the brave days of old, 
The deeds of thy sons with their names are untold, 
Oblivion throws o'er thee her darkest veil, 
O'er the song of thy bard — thy lost minstrel's tale ; 
Yet bright shines thy fame in the page of thy foe* 
The Roman's — who dealt thee, who felt from thee woe— 
Thou, Britain's free wilderness ! — Freedom's last sigh 
Shook the leaves and expired o'er the Sevi-lan-Gwy. 

* Vide Julius Caesar's eulogy of the Britons, 
Z 



170 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Well thy barbarous foes did their vengeance wreak, 

But my country, no more thou warrest ; 
Oh 'twas thraldom's thy gallant spirit to break ! 
Lorn and bare is thy sky-reaching mountain peak, 

Once crowned with the vast stately forest. 6 
Thy foes have bereft thee of forest and grove, 
Thy diadem, freedom, — and e'en freedom's love! 
Like a virgin deflowered, her head's honour torn, 
Thou seem'st e'en as joyless and griefless — forlorn! 
Such woeful serenity idiots endure, 
When broke is the heart : — Oh mute grief has no cure ! 
Thy innocent, cheerful, eve's dance on the green, 
Now rarely delights — but a barbarous scene 
Of jumping fanatics, whose dolorous yell 
Remind of the fabled vile orgies of hell ;* 
The frantic enthusiast's rant is preferred 
To the minstrel's sweet song once gratefully heard, 
That enamoured the youth of the hero's renown, 
Or divested the maid of the vestal's cold frown — 
Vernacular melodies ! tending to move 
The soul to th' enchantment of innocent love — 
Oh sinless delights ! that the saints of these times 
Brand with the false appellation of crimes ; 
Sour bigots detested ! whose ignorant rage 
Recalls the dark gloom of a rude iron age ! 
Now the rank garden-leek too — and who can tell 

why ? — 
Has supplanted the fame of the Sevi-lan-Gwy. 

Ah where's thy manubial glory of yore, 

The hall's bright bedeckment of beauty ? 

* A picture lamentably too true. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 171 

Thy songs, oh my nation ! thy loveliest store, 
Whence the proud glow of valour tlry hero wore, 

While the same was his pleasure and duty ? 
Oh lost is each vestige, defaced each fair scene, 
Where the spoiler, the robber, the tyrant has been ! 
Torn, torn, are the treasured archives of the land, 
Bright records of honour ! by the barbarous hand. 
Thou once mountain-nation of valour and power — 
Low lies thy beacon, thy castle, high tower, — 
The pole-cat, dark adder, th' unclean bird and 

beast, 
Possess the ruined mansion where chiefs held the 

feast, 
The hale hardy warrior — brave chief of the hills ! 
Destruction the space of his feasting now fills ; 
Rank green foetid pools, crumbled stones and tall 

weeds, 
The only memorial of all thy proud deeds ! 
Thy language that softness and ardour combine, 7 
Thy language of energy's on the decline ! 
The "tones of the south,"* soft, insipid, and mincing. 
Effeminate languor, luxuriant, evincing, 
Have now their ingustable still sleepy day, 
The nervous, expressive, and firm pass away. -** 
But will the soft lute rouse th' insensible band, 
When the armies of strangers assault the land ? 
Infuse the high spirit, and warm the cold heart, 
Insinew the soul, or strong glowing impart ? 
No! not the well eulogized "tones of the south," 
Though " soft as the kiss of a female's sweet mouth, 

* Vide Lord Byron's Beppo, 



172 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

(As sung by the first of high bards) would avail, 
Italia soft spirit may Britain ne'er hail, 
Her genius of evil! — Demosthenes not so 
Roused in the Athenian the patriot's glow — 
His rough manly periods like thunder burst forth, 
Or tempests alarming that rushed from the north- 
Like the masculine torrent-voiced God of the Wars, 
a Town-battering, homicidal, gory Mars !"* 
Aye — scorn them, degenerate! but bold sounds like 

these 
Become more our genius — proud land of the seas ! 
But closed be my song — and oh take my deep sigh, 
My lost country's emblem — dear Sevi-lan-Gwy ! 

He wandered the village of cottages rude, 
Where once Aberedw the treacherous stood, 
" Thou base Aberedw !" he said with a frown, 
" Why should not Infamy have her renown ?" 
And the Noble of Nature he sat in the place ; 
Recorded its legend stands, black in disgrace. 

THE LEGEND OF ABEREDW. 8 



The savage all wild in his glen 
Is nobler and better than thou ; 
Thou standest a wonder, a marvel to men, 
Such perfidy blackens thy brow ! 
If thou wert the place of my birth, 

At once from thy arms would I sever ; 
I'd fly to the uttermost ends of the earth, 

And quit thee for ever and ever ; 
And thinking of thee in my long after-years, 
Should but kindle my blushes and waken my tears. 

Byron. 

* €owper's Homer. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 173 

How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people, 
How is she become a widow ? 

Jeremiah. 

All joy is darkened and the mirth of the land is gone. 

Isaiah. 



Know ye the spot where the Sevi of Cambria 

Withers in woe for her children's misdeeds ? 
Know ye the spot that the patriot of Cambria 

With a brow of disdain and resentment e'er 
heeds ? — 
Know ye the village that's named from its river, 
That runneth through rocks and the Wye's its re- 
ceiver ? — 
Albeit, its streams though received by the Wye, 
She shuns as pollution — recedes as from dangers — 
Unmixed are their waters, they move like two stran- 
gers 
Side by side walking o'er the same ground chance 
rangers, 
Who dart on each other suspicion's dark eye : — 
One moves as satanic malignity hastens, 
One with bold course that true dignity chastens, 
The black Aberedw — the silver-bright Wye. 

When the Sais's carnivorous monarch so gory 

'Gainst the brave son of Griffith his thousands 
did bring — 
When Cambria's sons fought with gusto for glory, 
When hundreds and hundreds fell dead round 
their king — 



174 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 



When their bright star of Fortune waxed pale and 

grew fickle, 
And the mountain-men fell like the blade to the sickle, 
(Can a rivulet stand 'gainst a torrent's dread 
might ?) 
From Henfordd, Llewelyn, o'er hill road and meadow, 
Spurred his swift courser towards strong Aberedw, 
Where the Armourer mailed his worn hoof for 
fresh flight: 
Backwards the shoe to the king's horse was fastened. 
The fugitive prince from his seeming friends hastened, 
But his crowned head was sold ere he fell in the 
fight. 

High back wooded hills did the fair town environ, 

And guarded it well from th' inclement rude blast, 
There was one rock of slate, like a huge mass of iron, 

That seemed a vast vestige of ages long past,- — 
Level its top and square sides as a tower, 
At its base, south, the Edw; grass-blade, weed, nor 
flower, 

Grew on it ever, its top nor its side. 
But a contrast to all the gay scenes did it render, 
Arrayed in the darkness of withering splendour, 

And frowned in the gloom of a despot's state pride: 
Such a spot 'mid the ruin of a world, Desolation 
Might well choose, to glut on a world's conflagration ; 

'Twere a throne that the rage e'en of fire defied. 

On the height of this slate-rock, o'ertopping each 

dwelling, 
In the rage of despair stood the bard of Llewelyn, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 175 

And the ban of the heart through his fevered lips 
burst : 
Below stood the populace gazing with wonder, 
Dismayed at his vehemence, rancit as thunder, 

In th' acme of phrenzy as fiercely he curst : 
"Ye venomous reptiles — ye damned wolves of slaugh- 
ter! 
Accurst be your fair fields, your green hills and water ! 
For your sakes, o'er with barrenness curst be the 
earth ! 
Agents of fiends, 'tis to ruin I devote you ! 
Traitors I found you, and traitors I thought you ! 
Scorned of the world may ye soon wander forth ! 

Monsters of treachery, of souls blackly deeded, 
Oh loathsome's your bread, for with blood is it 
kneaded, 

While ye seize it, half famished, be it dust 'twixt 
your teeth ! 
May it rend and convulse you like minerals burning, 
Oh ye, who the ties of humanity spurning, 

Have torn from your father his land's regal wreath, 
And sold it to blood-shedding treacherous strangers- 
Regicides ! bondsmen ! oh woe to ye and dangers, 

While fear, guilt's companion, attends your vile 
days. 
So vented the bard his anathemas dire, 
Words waxed incoherent — his lips foamed with ire — 

He seemed like a prophet of wrath heaven arrays 
In its terror to warn a proud blasphemous nation, 
Of utter destruction and wide devastation, 

Who fills the whole earth with extremest amaze. 



176 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Quick flashed his eyes as the short gleams of light- 
ning, 
The more waned his strength, more his passion still 
heightening ; 
His arms with strong gestures he tossed in the air, 
Like the branches of oak in a high tempest waving, 
And his voice changed with wailing and franticly 
raving ; 
He was hoarse as the wolf — he was mad with 
despair, 
From his chin and his temples his grip the hair 

severed, 
The harp of his soul 'gainst the rock then he shivered, 

An omen his life was arrived at its close : 
Closed — ever closed — his adored avocation, 
'Twas the day, he conceived, of the end of his nation, 
The death day of patriots — their last day of woes. 
A stone from the hand of a ruffian now smote him — 
Down midst his foes from the high rock it brought 
him — 
He felt not his death — nor the sneer of his foes. 

He died — yet his curse was on all in the city, 

A daemon of darkness, Destruction his name, 
Rushed through its bounds, while in heaven slept Pity, 

No spirit of goodness did thwart his fierce aim ; 
He summoned to aid him each ruinous daemon ; 
Frequent at midnight the dread shriek of women, 

That sudden death reft of a parent or child, 
And a pestilent sickness on mankind and cattle, 
More deadly destructive than war swords in battle ; 

And private fends reigned with a fury most wild, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 177 

Oft grappled in anger that ended in slaughter, 
The son and the father, the mother and daughter. 

And crimes that the nation before never knew 
Were committed as pastimes : — laws no longer dread- 
ing? 
No cognizance taken of mid-day blood shedding, 

Unquestioned each Ruffian his enemy slew. 

The town grew a desert — a fire was kindled 

By a midnight incendiary — none could tell who — : 
To ashes some houses and families dwindled, 

And the yex of lamenting was heard from no few ; 
The ghost of the bard on the rock vengeance wreaking 
Was heard at still midnight while prey -birds were 
shrieking, 

A proverb of horror anon the town grew, 
Many did marvel with pale consternation, 
Perpending the mystic and strange conflagration ; 

One said that he saw fall a fire from heaven, 
" 'Tis the curse ! 'tis the curse !" cried a seer, full of 

wildness, 
"Has stricken the parents, or rendered them childless, 

'Tis the curse, all our honour and glory hath riven!" 

There was one rose at midnight and rushed o'er the 

ramparts, 
And yelled in his sleep in a voice framed to damp 
hearts, 
Or 'gender delirium in temperate brains ; 
" Oh horror ! oh horror ! our own men besiege us ! 
To punish our crime, lo ! a dread war they wage us— ? 
The sky with their arrows a death shower rains !" 
2 a 



178 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 



Unwakably wild thus the sleep-walker's screaming, 
Like an agonized maniac with open eyes dreaming, 
And a crowd from their slumbers were roused 
with affright ; 
Not a star, nor the moon in the heavens was shining, 
The spirits of evil, all horrors combining, 
Seemed, this, to have marked for a festival night ; 
He rushed o'er the ramparts — a crowd followed after, 
All headlong fell over!— and loud fiendish laughter 
Was heard, ar if down in the caverns of earth. 

The trumpet was sounded convening the forces — 

Oh darkness and death sure with Ruin combined ! 
And women were crushed by the hoofs of the horses, 
Their death-shrieks reached far on the wings of the 

wind ; 
The survivors a sullen despondency seizing, 
Numbing the nerve, and all energy freezing, 
Each moped midst their ruins with heavy pale face, 
Cross armed and slow paced — all ground-gazing — 

choiceless — 
Of spectral demeanour — as skeletons voiceless, 
The heart's desolation, in all, men could trace : 
At length many travelled — to other towns wandered •; 
Wherever they settled, soon in their ears thundered 
Their native town's name— source of foulest disgrace; 
Far removed generations to these days upbraid too 
With descent from the traitors of base Aberedw, 
That pestilent blur on fair Cymru's fresh face. 

Oh dear to fond man is his spot of nativity, 

Though beauty nor plenty to attach him exist, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 179 

Nor breezes of health, dearest friends to longevity, 

Nor aught that's engaging to strangers I wist ; 
So at Aberedw — though ruin surrounds them, 
And something each hour destroys or confounds them, 

Nor plague, sword, or fire could warn them away, 
The madly fond children distractedly clinging 
To the dark serpent mother her own who was stinging, 

Embraced e'en her corse in its putrid decay. 
To rebuild their fall'n houses, with turmoil assaying, 
The huge stones cemented on each other laying, 

Vain were their labours, the curse was not stale — 
High storms in the night, with an awful sound rushing, 
Assaulting man's tenements — 'neath them all crushing ; 

The massive blocks blowing like chaff in the 
gale; 
And at noon-day when all hues of nature wore stillness, 
She has throed like a mother in desperate illness, 

Walls were blown down when no breeze shook a tree 
It seemed as if spirits malignant annoyed them, 
And glutting hot vengeance with rage thirst destroyed 
them, 

For ever security there ceased to be. 

Ages have past — and each scene is at variance 

With what was delightful in bright days of yore, 

E'en jacent magnificence no more makes tarriance, 
'Twas Time's to deracinate or cover o'er, 

And each charm disarray; and now all's grown iii- 
sipid, 

The scene darkly marcid, the people all tepid, 

Clownishly plodding — each charm obsolete — 

The cade of the wild-bird and beauties campestral, 

The boscage umbrageous e'er dear to^he minstrel, 



180 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 



All— save the slate-rock— 'twas Time's to delete^ 
Strong was the grip of old Time in the wrestle 
With the skeleton weak of her once famous castle, 

That brought its proud head to the bastion at 
last, 
Long did he cite to surrender and fate it, 
But like a strong giant of tendons athletic, 

He stood, all defying, and growled in the blast. 

It lives — and but dubiously lives now in story, 
Autopsical once — Aberedw thy glory, 

Thy heroes, and bards, and war-chiefs' caval- 
cade, 
Thy canorous minstrels, thy calid souled speakers, 
Thy rich gustful mead drank in golden carved 
beakers, 
Thy social hall's pleasures, and gay knights' pa- 
rade, 
Thy beauties who tempered the rude chief's ferocity, 
Melting in mildness or wild generosity, 

And kindling that passion — so sweet and acute, 
Where Wisdom once spoke through the souls of the 

sages, 
Bright apopthegms, and sweet song that engages, 

More cogent than reasoning, however argute; — ■ 
Now is disgraced by dull hinds in rude brabble, 
There none hide their heads but the scum of the rabble, 
Beauty is dead — Song and Wisdom are mute. 

Aberedw — curst spot ! that thro' each passing season 
Meets scorn, and will meet it thro' ages to come ; 

Aberedw — abhorred for thy citizen's treason, 
Aberedw the silent, deserted, and glum ; 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 181 

There's a fiend o'er thy glories of yore has been 

ploughing, 
The spouse of Destruction — his wild name is Ruin; 
Thy towers he battered, thy turrets struck low, 
Thou'rt shunned as a spot by the night-spirits haunted, 
A village of cots now thy town that erst vaunted 
Its castle and ramparts to ward the strong foe; 
To the traveller thou'rt pointed, thy story discovering 
" There stood Aberedw that sold its true sove- 
reign, 
Where nestles the adder-— where rank nettles grow. 

On the banks of the Wye many kindly hearts dwell ; 
At many a friend's he has bidden farewell, 
Crossed o'er the mountain, he views the high Beacon, 
The Priory Walks and the lawns of fair Brecon. 
But sweet recollections, so vivid ! so many ! 
Delight him e'en more, on the banks of 



LLEWENNY. 

The cranes of the Wye are grey of pi ume, 
As the homely web of the village loom, 

The Irvon's wild duck is speckled ; 
White wigeons sojourn on the silver Cray, 
And the high-building kite, with designing play. 

Hovers o'er them — the felon freckled ! 
But the gentle Llewenny has more to boast 
Than its golden stream or its store of cost ; 
The angler's plume of enchanting hue, 
Is the crest of her proud-crowing cocks of blue. 9 



182 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Oh rich is the ancient Llewenny ! 

Of amber-bright hue its streams, 10 
As golden-faced Sol had reposed in its waters. 

And yellowed it with his beams : 
And the ancient Llewenny is proud 

As a Roman patrician of blood, 
Disdaining to mix in its journey along 

With any plebian flood. 

And the river Llewenny is strong, 

As it rolls through Savadhan lake, 
Though rivers there mix with rivers and brooks, 

With none will it give or take ; 
But self-hued, unbroken, through waters 

It rushes, as in disdain, 
As the mine-rebel ore bursts all bounds before, 
And still is itself, through each ridge of Earth's core* 

The powerful hell-gallop vein. 11 

Llewenny's a nymph of the valleys^ 

Her tresses are yellowy green, 
The traveller has called her the landscape's gem, 

The smile of the woodland scene ; 
The angler well pleased with her bounty, 

Has bent with his scaly load, 
Sweet eyes have shone bright with the glow of delight, 

As they gleam in his own abode. 

And oft, on the banks of Llewenny, 

The village-school children are seen, 

Plucking or rooting primroses, in sods, 
To plant in the churchyard green, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 183 

Bedecking the grave of kindred : 

Oft here the fond lover woos, 
The maiden and youth of aiFection and truth, 

No stiller sweet spot can choose. 

Here too, on the banks of Llewenny, 

The florid farm-girls of the vales 
Sing the loud song, while milking at eve, 

Or morn, scouring milking pails ; 
Llewenny ! thy scenes, though humble, 

Must attract Nature's lover's gaze ! 
E'en thy name joys create, and associate 
Dear recollections of childhood's state, 

Wild sports of fond boyhood's days ! 

He leans o'er the bridge of the fair Pentre Velin, 

That village of swains ! where he first heard the Telyn, 

Or joined in the evening's gay dance on the green, 

And many an innocent festival scene ! 

A girl at the door of a cottage was sitting, 

And this simple ditty she sang at her knitting. 



THE MAID OF PENTRE VELIN.* 

Sweet home ! my blessed happy home, 
I would not roam from thee ! 

* Pentre Velin, or Pentre'r Velin, signifies the Mill Village. 

The first four lines of these stanzas are written in a lyric measure of 
great antiquity, and peculiar to Welsh Poetry ; the fourth syllable of 
the second line rhymes with the first line, which, to render more con- 
spicuous to an English eye, are printed in italics, 



184 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Far England's prouder towns and sights^ 
And gay delights to see : 

Most happy in my father's dwelling, 

With childhood's scenes well pleased am I, 

I heave no discontented sigh — 

Well pleased to live — to live and die — = 

In my native Pentre Velin. 

Oft Rees the harper passes here, 

And renders cheer to all ! 
No wedding feast more gay than we, 

Whenever he does call. 
Blithe old Rees plays on his Telyn ; 

Across the green the dancers fly — 

And in the midst of them am I ? 

Proud with the proudest then to vie — ■ 
On the green of Pentre Velin. 

And once a year Trecastley«?r, 
(Aye revels rare I see !) 

With Be van always there I go, 
Since children low were we. 

Tender tales he's ever telling, 

And then with me his suit he'll push, 
Which makes me hide my face and blush, 
For in my cheeks the colours rush, 

As we walk to Pentre Velin. 

Now dead is Griffith of the mill, 

Beneath the hill lies he, 
And when his hoy is twenty-owe, 

Shines pleasure's sun on me. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 185 

The mill house then shall be our dwelling, 
And we shall lead the sweetest life ; 
Whate'er our care, yet free from strife, 
The miller and the miller's wife, 

Of our native Pentre Velin. 

Attachment is reared in the generous mind, 
Less by the beauteous and bright, than the kind ; 
The grot of the mountain is dearer to lovers, 
Than ought the gay valley of sunshine discovers ; 
To the Noble of Nature the Mountain Ash shews 
More lovely than forests or orchards disclose. 



THE MOUNTAIN ASH OF LLWYN-Y-NEATH. 

Oh thou that bloom'st amid the wild-wood, 
Around whose boll I've played in childhood — 
Thy branches from the sun me shield would, 

In mid-day's heat. 
Thou'rt dearer to my sight than railed wood, 

In orchards neat. 

I love to view thy branches spread— 
I love to view thy berries red — * 
Oh ever rear on high thy head, 

Gay mountain Ash ! 
May none, to sense of beauty dead, 

Thy honours dash. 

Many and many a year has past, 
Since, beauteous tree ! I saw thee last, 

2b 



186 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Affliction many a dart has cast. 

And often smote me, — 
Sickness, sorrow, blight and blast 

Of fortune caught me. 

And thou hast scars too — peasants rude 
Have lopped thy branches, hacked and hewed, 
And with them hedges have renewed, 

All void of pity — 
Thee steel and fire have pursued 

Like sacked city ! 

But spite of all the ills that showered, 

Thy roots have spread, thy head has towered, 

Germinated, leaved, and flowered, 

A beauteous thing ! 
Not so with me — with care o'erpowered, 

I'm seared in spring. 

Hard sons of thrift do sneer at thee, 
And curse thee for a useless tree, — 
But thou art dearly loved of me, 

Thou charm'st mine eye : 
And useless that can never be, 

That stills a sigh. 

Whatever balms the smarting breast, 
And wins the heaving heart to rest, 
Delights the eye or ear, is bless'd, 

And never vain, — 
So thou that charm'st my mind distressed, 

Deserv'st my strain ! 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 187 

Eye objects still the mental throe, 

Reflections generate, and so 

The harsh resolve cause to forego, 

And soothe chagrin,—- 
Else malice and revenge, to woe 

Might tempt, and sin. 

And I — a reckless thriftless one, — 
Fortune's wild and wandering son, 
Oft slightest trifles dote upon, 

That thought pursues, 
Slight things that shine and fade anon, 

Like rainbow hues. 

Such is woman's varying smile — 

Aye, false as Fortune's — fraught with guile — ■ 

Ah me, I sicken — woe's the while ! 

To touch that theme — 
For I — but let it pass — 'tis vile — 

I'd happy seem. 

Thou ruddy -berried Ash of Britain, 12 
To thee my filial heart is beating, 
For no exotic thou — well weeting 

I honour thee, 
And give thee warmer, fonder greeting, 

Thou British tree ! 

With classic folks' leave and pardon, 
When sultry hours scorch and harden, 
I'd rather see thee grace the garden 
For a bower, 



188 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 



Than choicest laurel — folly's bargain ! 
Far seas brought o'er. 

I love to view thy branches spread, 
I love to view thy berries red, 
Oh ever rear on high thy head, 

Gay mountain Ash ! 
May none to sense of beauty dead, 

Thy honors dash. 

Oh woman's ingratitude ! falsehood ! caprice ! 
The Noble of Nature, a stranger to peace 
And sick to the heart, wends to far foreign lands, 
A name seeks in arms, where his genius commands ; 
His energy frames a bold charge from retreat, 
A vict'ry decided from partial retreat. 

He fought for the king 'gainst invaders of Spain, 

And sought the reward that the valiant may gain, 

Men deemed 'twould be eminent as his success 

That the soldier of fortune high fortune would bless ; 

But no blood of nobility hallowed his claim, 

And the Noble of Nature had nought but his fame. 

Bosomed in greatness and mantled in pride 5 

The Noble of Nature with silence replied, 

Proud was his step and indignant his eye 

While the pains of the heart scorns the vent of a sigh, 

As he turns from the heartless and despot-ruled train, 

Where the Noble of Nature was noble in vain. 

Of Fortune, base beauty, and ingrates the sport, 
The Noble of Nature was lofty of porte, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 189 

Erect as the great soul indignantly stands, 
Gallant of bearing, Ills high brow commands : 
A smile for the malice of fortune and foes, 
In the Noble of Nature right lovelily shews. 

'Tis beautiful! nature's own soul might rejoice, 
And give to the stones of the earth a proud voice, 
To hail her magnanimous gem-hearted son, 
In adversity's hour — by fortune undone— 
Enwrapt in his own native greatness of soul, 
That stars inauspicious have failed to controul ! — 

'Tis beautiful ! Honour a blessing shall breathe, 
And Glory her chaplet of loveliness wreathe ! 
The shades of the mighty a mightier shall bless, 
When he smiles in the day of his evil success ! — 
'Tis beautiful — viewing his high self support ! 
'Tis beautiful — viewing the gallant of porte. 

'Tis beautiful — eyeing the generous and brave, 
His great heart on high, and his hopes in the grave ! 
Sheds he a tear ? is it poorly or weak ? 
'Tis instantly dashed with disdain from the check — 
The bright son of honour shall mean sorrows slay ? 
In his heart's destitution he framed a proud lay. 



YE HAVE FROWNED ! 

Ye have frowned on my hopes, and my claims ye 

reject, 
Ye have frowned on my hopes — yet I dare stand 

erect — 



190 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Now your glance cannot awe, nor your smilings elate, 
Too proud is my heart, though despising to hate. 

Ye have frowned on my hopes — yet the bright sun 

on high, 
Shines on me in my grief, as on ye in your joy — 
Ye have frowned on my hopes — but the great world 

is wide, 
And the high heart's companion is generous pride. 

Ye have sneered at my aims, ye have mocked at my 

pains, 
And shall I forget, while warm blood fills my veins ? 
The slanderer whose venom my fair name would blot, 
The woman who scorned me were sooner forgot ! 

Aimless he wandered — and left the proud land, 
Where serves the true noble, where base minds com- 
mand, 
And the land of the foreigner lovelily shone, 
But the Noble of Nature sighed deep for his own ; — 
He crossed o'er the national mountainous wall, 
And heard the war-shrieks in the land of the Gaul. 

He looked from the height with a general's eye, 
And enquired the cause of the armies that fly ; 
" Tho' coveting fortune, nor wealth, nor applause," 
He said, " I would die in a generous cause ! 
For why, unbeloved, should I wander the earth ? 
Let me, at least, feel my own hearted worth." 

The Huguenots flew like the dear from the hounds, 
With fire and sword persecution forth bounds, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 191 

The Noble of Nature takes part in the flight, 
Strengthens the weak, puts the bigots to flight— 
The Huguenots, turning the tables, grow fierce, 
But aloof stands the Noble of Nature, averse. 

No friend to the cruel, whatever their creed, 
Huguenot — Papist— no more will he heed; 
Humanity's friend ! Nature's Noble and boast ! 
Was held as an alien and foe to each host. — 
The plume of the warrior, fame, honour, or care, 
Doffs the Noble of Nature, unfit for his wear. 

He thought of the abuses of civilized states, 

(Whose eulogy falsely the parasite prates,) 

A base servile people — the poud feudal lord, 

The sovereign despotic, whose sceptre's a sword — 

" The state of the savage with more blessings teems," 

He cried, " Where the bright Star of Liberty beams." 



THE STAR OF LIBERTY. 



He sung a doleful song about green fields. — 
How sweet it were, on Lake or wild Savannah, 
To hunt for food and be a naked man, 
And rove up and down at Liberty. 



Coleridge. 



Oh ! that I were an Indian wild, 

On whom the Star of Freedom smiled ! 

I'd be a fond idolater, 

And worship that dear brilliant star I 



192 NOBLE OF NATURE* 

At ease beneath the plantain's shade 
I'd fondle with my tawny maid, 
To her I'd sing, and she to me, 
The song of Love and Liberty ! 

We'd wander through the sunny vales, 

Shun scorching heats or stormy gales — 

Pleasantness, where'er it be, 

Alone should tempt my love and me ; 

The nations miscalled civilized 

We'd shun — as serpent haunts despised ! 

Unbiassed, merry, blest, and free, 

We'd sing of Love and Liberty ! 

Though custom's slaves define us rude, 
The sea, the woods, should render food ; 
Our tent we'd raise where breezes hale 
Should tempt our steps — the woody vale; 
Whene'er we choose again we'd change — 
Where'er we pleased in freedom range — 
Kind, ardent, and serene we'd be 
Beneath thy star — dear Liberty! 

And we would snatch the fearful joy 
That elevated souls can buoy 
E'en when sublimity's proud reign 
Is in the sky or on the main ; 
Though nature's feebler train retire 
We'd in the awful hour admire — 
While still our fondest glance should be 
Bent on our Star of Liberty. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Our seat by deafening cataract 

We'd mark the thunderbolt in act — 

The quaking earth, the whirlwind's sweep, 

The wild convulsions of the deep, 

And tempest yells, whence seem as hurled 

A flat forth, to blast the world, 

That shuddering shrunk ; poor atoms ! we 

The while would bless thee, Liberty ! 

And we would have our winter cot, 
And we would have our summer grot, 
Where taste and fancy should combine, 
Flowers bloom and beauty shine ; — 
Rivers run and wild birds sing, 
Forest creatures dart and spring ; 
A second Eden all should be 
Beneath thy Star — blest Liberty. 

No heartless master's eye should awe, 

And impose the despot law ; 

The thought ambitious neither, then, 

Should prompt to 'slave our brother men ; 

No wasting toil for niggard pay 

Or purse-proud's frown to curse our day, 

Such hell-on-earth could never be 

Where beamed thy Star — loved Liberty. 

What though unblest by bloated priest, 
The God of all should bless our feast ! 
What though no scoundrel lawyer plan 
Dispute and hate 'tween man and man ; 
2 c 



194 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Without the legal tyger's aid 
We'd sit us, fearless ! in our shade, 
Of tithes, of fees, of taxes free, 
All health we'd bless thee — Liberty. 

What though no doctor, wigged and wise, 

Vending jargon, poison, lies, 

Insult us with his cold concern ! 

Yet one would for the other yearn, 

With true affection's tenderest smart, 

Play lover, nurse, and doctor's part : 

While temperance, chief, our leech should be, 

And hallowed Star of Liberty. 

Yes, and on the flowery sod 

We'd bend the knee- — the heart — to God ; 

Glistening tears on glowing cheek 

Our grateful hearted love, should speak ; 

Yes ! wild inspiration's glow 

The eye should bright, the breast should throe 

All soul in adoration, we 

Would bless the God of Liberty. 

Oh yes ! and with warm hearts as true 
As nature's children ever knew, 
The earth our altar, and the sky 
The dome of nature's temple high ; 
Our garb — the robe of innocence, 
Our incense — yearns for past offence ; 
From superstition's gloom yet free 
As heaven's light of Liberty. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 195 

Oh ! that I were and Indian, free ! 
The savage son of Liberty ! 
Far from Europe's sons of blood, 
The homicidal viper brood ! 
Where men are as utensils made, 
Mere tools of art ; where war's a trade — 
Religion craft ; where best is he 
Who stabs the heart of Liberty. 

Yes, blessed are the simple tribe, 
Custom's cant who ne'er imbibe, 
Right 'gainst wrong their only rule, 
And nature's dictates all their school ; 
With friendship every breast endued 
For mutual offices of good ; 
Oh ! with that mild fraternity 
'Twere bliss to live at Liberty. 

He wandered the nations — now here, and now there, 

An outcast, a stranger, and died — none know where! 

(Thy tie, consanguinity, none dare to own 

With the Noble of Nature — his grave has no stone.) 

But he sang in his solitude, once, at his ease, 

Of an Island of Freedom, far over the seas. 



LEW CHEW. 1 * 



A land of milk and honey. 



I'll seek the fair Isle, of which mariners speak, 
Where an ever-fresh smile plays on Nature's full cheek, 



196 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Where the foliage of Asia with Europe's combine, 14 
To form a sweet Paradise, soft, and divine ; — 
Where the produce of regions that oceans divide, 
Are natives, and neighbourly grow side by side. 
Where the soil, where the sun e'er parentally cherish, 
And cause torrid, temp' rate, and frigid plants flourish. 
The same earth their roots nurse, and same breezes stir 
The tea-plant of China, and Norway's green fir ; — 
Where the banyan of India, the orange and lime, 
Sugar-canes, yams, and the cocoa-nut prime, 
Are no exotics, — but grew when the Isle 
First rose from the ocean to meet heaven's smile, . 
Arrayed like a bride both in beauty and worth, 
In the costly selections of all the wide earth. 

I'll away to the Isle of which mariners tell, 

Where bears nature's breast a luxuriant swell ; 

Where gay verdant lawns in felicity spread, 

And sweetest of perfumes forever are shed ; 

Where the sky, where the waters, are charmingly clear, 

And music unceasingly strikes in the ear. 

Through fruitage and blossoms where sea-breezes blow, 

And rivers and streams make an eye-winning shew, — 

Where variety ever new wonder excites, 

And the smile of fair tillage with wildness unites ! 

Where the cinnamon's fragrance on wings of the breeze 

Revives the drenched seaman three leagues on the 

seas — 
Where the rocks of the ocean, of smooth ruddy coral, 
Have their brows gaily crowned with soft diadems floral 
And Fancy can view througlf the crystal-clear waves, 
The sporting young sea nymphs in grottos and caves. 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 197 

In richness of vision, soft rosy-cheeked girls, 
Dance in pavilions of diamonds and pearls ! 

Yes, I'll hie to the land — the sweet Island of spring ! 
That Europe's soft muses neglecteth to sing — 
Where delightful as fairy-land, carpets of green, 
O'erspeckled with flowers in valleys are seen, 
High cocoa-trees springing from fair fields of rice, 
Rich exhalations from flowers and spice, — 
And o'er the high mountains through each passing 

season ; 
Dark shady trees boldly close the horizon — 
Where the flower-tree's blossom grows scarlet or pale, 15 
As on it smiles sol, or as eve-shades prevail. 
Thus the hue of delight to the virgin's cheek rushes, 
As her loved one appears, in redundance of blushes; 
Anon he departeth — her bosom throbs chilly — ■ 
Lo, niveous her face as the fair drooping lily. 

^Tis the blessed Isle of Lew Chew — the land of delight! 
Where nature in elegance witches the sight ; 
The senses are ravished with extacy's thrill, 
Elysium is realized— valley and hill! 
Oh lovelier still, and more lofty the boast, 
Beyond all the sweets of this heavenly coast, 
Unknown to base perfidy, concord's fell bane — 
Here man and his consort are mild and humane Z 16 
Here native urbanity softens and shines 
The strong heart of daring to kindness refines. — 
'Tis the blest land of innocents ! — cursed be the arm 
And heart of ambition that renders them harm ! 
My dear native Britain — that ban on the crime 
If ever thy war-sword is gored in this clime* 



198 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

The Noble of Nature, though luckless of lot, h 
And whether he died in that island or not, > 

He is not as one who had not been — forgot ! — j 
The minions of affluence scarce know his name, 
But the children of sorrow have wept out his fame; 
Goodness shall cease to be valued on earth, 
When the children of men have mis-rated his worth, 
Patriots all cease to be — despots prevail, 
Liberality wither, all generous aims fail — 
The march of the mind, on the retrogade movement, 
Barbarity's foot tread the neck of Improvement — 
Oh bright eyes shall slumber and warm hearts grow 

cold, 
Ere perish his records — the true heart of gold ! 
In Germany, there is a tale of him told, 
Well meriting Fame's kindest, loftiest meed, 
That proves him the Noble of Nature indeed. 



KOLATTO AND ADELAIDE. 

A Pathetic tale. 

There raged a famine in the German States, 

That devastation through the land creates, 

A gaunt, wide-wasting famine ! — and the poor 

Their various throes of misery endure, 

The death-in-life that famishment accords, 

Maddening as as death-pangs from fell poisoned 

swords ! 
But more prolonged — more terribly prolonged ! 
In naked horror naked corses thronged, 
Like cattle midst the murrain of the herd, 
Heaped human corses, shroudless, uninterred, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 199 

Barbarized the flinty, sterile, blast-swept earth. 
And thousands curst the hours of their birth. 
To save the parents from starvation's graves 
The law allowed to sell their young for slaves, 
And rich men bought them, as their humour suits 
Like heaps of timber, or their haltered brutes ; 
The vending parent's agonies, but entice 
The heartless purchaser to scant his price, 
Carefully, minorating bread of pay, 
Lest violated Nature th' anguished victim slay. 

The nation's ills, in minature, may be 
Pourtrayed in the story of one family.—*- 

Kolatto and Adelaide, an humble pair, 
Sunk by their sufferings into deep despair, 
Drooped o'er their starving children — vainly wept, 
While death, disguiseless, 'mong their circle crept, 
A daring daemon, gloating on their care, 
With pouncing readiness his prey to tear, 
No hope of one his fixing eyes controul, 
But wandering ever, watching for the whole^ 
With stretching talons, towards the latter gasp ; 
The wretched parents yield protection's clasp, 
Between their offspring share the scanty meal, 
Oft foodless themselves — not for themselves they 

feel! 
But like the pelican that yields its breath, 
And heart's blood sheds, to save its young from death, 
Devoted martyrs of parental love ! 
Long with the genius of the hour strove, 
Yet vain each effort — now wild Famine's power 
Brought the most trying, the most dreaded hour — 



200 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

One of their children died ! — 

" Oh God ! what's best"— 
Cried the anguished father, " to preserve the rest ? — 
Oh, it is terrible ! — and yet must be — 
Of our four children, yet remain here three — 
Though horror thrills me as the truth's confessed, 
And sorrow's fever fires my brain and breast, 
Yet, by a father to a mother told ~\ 

The tale must be — ere Death's dart strikes us cold — > 
One of our children, love, — one, must be — sold!"} 

vi Sold! God of Heaven !" — with maternal throe 

Exclaimed the mother, " say not, say not so ! 

What! feed on our young ones' blood? — oh worst 

despair ! 
The hungered tyger will its own cubs spare — 
Shall we, more cruel than the beasts of prey, 
Devour our children ? — let death first slay ! 
What ! feed, like cannibals, on human flesh ? 
Our own flesh too ? oh be not, be not rash ! 
Some chance may rescue- — 

Oh mighty God dispense 
To save us, some preserving providence ! 
E'en strike the oak, but oh the weak germ save ! 
The tender sapling — shield me with a grave ! 
For I am mad with horror of the thought." — 

She stopt — her husband's stony glance she caught; — 
" Oh thy humanity is not awake ! 
This callous stupor from thy nature shake" — 
She cries, and shakes him by the passive arm 
That hangs — a dead branch — that scarce tempests 
warm — 



NOBLE OF NATURE 201 

Oil tills fungosity ! thy heart is lead — J 

Be mad — be thou any thing but thus — thus dead — > 
Ah! that hand's pressure — then's not nature fled, j 

Husband ! Kolatto ! oh the thought was wild — 
You cannot mean it, love — to sell a child — 

The curse of heaven would blast the horrid gold ! 

I die the moment that a child is sold." 



"Look on the livid features of that corse," 

(Replied Kolatto, with a steady force, 

Whose stilly reason had a mastering pow'r, 

That o'er-ruled passion in the frantic hour,) 

" Such will our children's be, and thine, and mine, 

ll' ilds alternative we now decline, 

In two days hence not one will be alive 

Of us — the present sadly-breathing five : 

I know it is horrible, — but times may change, 

Whom now we part with, we may yet arrange 

Soon to re-purchase, by our labour hard. 

And none can criminal the act regard ; 

Oh no ! this gallant struggle with despair, 

In Virtue's eye a generous look will bear, 

And God will bless it, the devoted soul 

Whom he may fix as ransom for the whole." 

The dire necessity the mother sees — 
Sobs on her husband's neck — at length agrees. 
'Twas now a task more difficult arose, 
That Nature's paternal, holy pangs, disclose, 
Long, long they ponder, while their sorrows swell, 
Which of the children to select to sell; — 

2 D 



202 NOBLE OF NATURE. 

In vain they fix, and then reject and pause, 
Each was a favourite for a different cause ! 

" Be the lot Frederick's our elder born 

As he's the strongest, least by suffering worn," 

Sighed the sad father, as he hid the tear ; 

" No ! cried the mother, Frederick's trebly dear ! 

Thy pictured self! — our first-born, only boy ! 

I cannot part with him — my life ! my joy ! 

But since the horrid sacrifice must be. 

Let Adelaide, our eldest girl be she." 

" Oh no !" cries Kolatto, with affection's tone, 
" Her face of sweetness emulates thine own, 
Her mother's likeness in that child appears— 
My favourite girl ! whose every look endears ! 
I cannot, will not part with her." 

" Oh true," 
Replies the mother, " yet love, what's to do ? 
We cannot sell our Getha — 'twould break my heart, 
With her, our young and tender one — to part ! 
'Twere war with nature's charities to wage, 
Our late-sent infant — child of our old age .'" 

The children grouped around their parents — lo ! 
How piteous stood the family of woe ; — 
Each on their parents looked the lorn appeal, 
That either, wildly, to the heart's core feel, 
But wildered, voiceless, stand the tender pair, 
Like stony figures of transfixed despair ; 
At length, like fire from the lava fount, 
That rolls in the bosom of the labouring mount, 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 203 

A burst of sorrow from the mother broke, 

That powerful nature's heroism spoke, 

"No! let us die together! — never, never! 

Can I from either of our dear ones sever;" 

" Aye !" cried Kolatto, " we'll together die ! 

Nor with necessity's stern law comply, 

Till stricken pulseless by the hand of death !" 

Then clasped his Adelaide, who gasped for breath ; 

Locked in each other's faithful fond embrace, 

Not a tear runs o'er the fevered face, — 

The heart a furnace to the blood became, 

And horrid famine glared the glance of flame, 

Till spent — exhausted — 'scapes the hopeless sigh,-— 

They fall amidst their children on the earth — to die. 

In such an hour of heart-rending grief, 

Heaven sent the philanthropist, to yield relief, 

A British Howard ! (long ere Howard's day) 

There, chance-directed, came to ask his way — 

'Twas Nature's Noble ! — he — unknown to thrones, 

The generous wanderer whom the world disowns-— 

The son of talent, bravery, and worth, 

And all that's elevated, gracing earth, 

'Twas he that fortune frowned on — suffering's child—- 

On whom the muses in their bounty smiled ! 

5 Twas he— the Noble of Nature ! 

The liberal Briton raised them from the ground, 
And blessed his God that such a scene was found ! 
More rich in goodness than in worldly wealth, 
He raised the dying — bade them smile in health! 
To all a brother, with strong zeal to bless, 
He stood among the family of distress ; 



204 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 



Like God's own saying angel! — lie lias braved 
The breath of pestilence, and the dying saved — 
Beheld, with rapture, those who hopeless mourned, 
To all the gusto of their days returned ; 

Time saw and beard, in the succeeding spring, 

Kolatto's children in the sunshine sing ! 

Time saw Kolatto and his Adelaide 

In health, in peace, and happiness arrayed : 

" God bless the traveller !" they tearful cried, 

" God bless his country — Nature's gem of pride !" 

Their children's children, in a far degree, 

Have lisped that prayer in their infancy. 

END OF THE NOBLE OF NATURE. 

The Noble of Nature ! who shall scan the phrase, 
And not apply it to the great departed ? 

The greatest, brightest, noblest of our days ! 
For whom the generous droop, heavy hearted — 

Oh he was Nobleness itself ! amaze 

Seized on the nation — her high hope was thwarted, 

When flew the tidings that his day was o'er, 

That Britain's glory, Byron, was no more. 

I heard the tale as of a well-known city 

Burnt to ashes, and her hundreds perished; 
Boundless wonder, and most hearted pity, 

With hope 'twas not so, were the feelings cherished ; 
But yes — his bright reign is over! yet he 

Atchieved a name so splendid — but not garnished 
Like that which gilds the minion of a day, 
But oh ! to live forever and for aye. 



NOIJLE OF NATURE. 205 

A name to live, in beauty and in glory, 
In high magnificence, with first rate men, 

A star to this, as they to ages hoary, 
A star of primal magnitude ! oh when 

Shall the proud annals of our future story 
Give to our hemisphere his like again ? 

Oh man of centuries, eternal Byron ! 

True heart of gold, though long mis-rated iron. 

His lay was varied as the face of nature, 
The softly brilliant, or the darkly grand, 

From him creation held no hidden feature, 
His pen became the magic-master's wand, 

Love, wit, eloquence, alike its creature, 

All human passions owned his great command, 

Melting poesy ! oh a love to yearn, 

And yet the master-genius, grandly stern. 

The princely nobleman, the gifted bard, 
The true philanthropist, the friend of man, 

Oh he that Freedom held in dear regard, 
Prepared to perish, foremost in the van, 

To rescue Greece from vassalage ! ill starred 

Who, who, shall deem him that the great course ran ? 

He sleeps in the land of his loveliest lays, 

The greatest, brightest, noblest of his days. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



ST. GERMAIN'S FIELD ; 

OR, 

THE VICTORY OF THE HOLY SHOUT. 



In the reign of the British king Cystennin, the son of Cynvor the 
blessed, and in the year 429, the British clergy applied for assistance 
to a Gallican council, to check the Pelagian heresy in the church, which 
had attained an alarming growth. St. Germain, bishop of Auxerre, and 
Lupus, bishop of Froyes, were sent over to them, who succeeded in put- 
ting a temporary stop to the Pelagian innovations. During this period, 
the Saxons joined in confederacy with the Picts, and invaded that part 
of Wales in which St. Germain had fixed his residence. At this juncture, 
many Britons were assembled to be instructed by this reverend prelate, 
in the principles of Christianity, and to receive baptism at his hands on 
festival of Easter. Supported by this multitude, who were fired with 
religious enthusiasm, St. Germain calmly waited the approach of the 
enemy, at a place called " MaesGarmon," or " St. Germain's Field,"' 
near Mold, in Flintshire ; and, at the moment when the Saxons were 
rushing to the attack, he ordered the Britons to call aloud, three times, 
" Hallelujah !" which terrifying the Saxons, andincreasing the ardour 
of the Britons, give to the latter the victory. 



'Twas from the sunny land of vines, 
Where jocund Nature gaily shines, 
And laughs to see each fertile field 
Its harvest train and plenty yield — - 
2 e 



210 st. Germain's field. 

'Twas from the beauteous land of Gaul 
St. Germain came, midst Britain's thrall, 
To give her ease from heresies, 
That like a rancorous disease 

Upon her vitals fed and preyed ; 
Against the foul Pelagian train 
To preach, St. Germain crossed the main, 

And soon the evil stayed : 
Success his pious labours crowned, 
And he grew honoured and renowned ; 
Base Morgan's innovations failed, 
St. Germain's precepts pure prevailed ; 
Still, pupils, converts, penitents, 
Around his dwelling raise their tents, 
Among them humbly would he teach, 
E'er lecture, and baptize, and preach. 
And he was to them as a star, 
He told of arts of peace and war, 
Encouraged, praised, the gallant part, 
And blessed the warrior's dauntless heart ; 
'Twas God's own fire, he said, that gave 
Such glorious beauty to the brave, 
And that God's love would cease to be, 
When failed the blaze of bravery. 
He told how Britain's forts should be 
Huge floating bulwarks on the sea r 1 
And lo, the Briton's straight began 
The mighty naval force to plan, 
The nation's stay in evil's day, 
Whence grew she glorious in her sway, 
The empress of the deep ; 



st. Germain's field. 211 

And centuries have brought to view 

St. Germain's dictates wise and true, 

Well worthy were to keep. 

It chanced on Easter festival, 

The aged sire, wise and good, 

Taught among the multitude, 
When called a voice that did appal ; — 
It was a man, that wild-eyed ran, 
And speechless, breathless, with his fear, 
Till to the crowded host drawn near, 

When thus, with aspect wan — 
" Oh God have mercy on us all ! 
For in this hour of dread we die, 
The Saxons and the Picts are nigh — 
Two mighty hosts in one, combined, 
Approach with speed beyond the wind !" 

Wonder wild, and terror strong, 
Ran like madness through the throng, 
All eyes with single meaning stared, 
And that was danger; all were scared, — 
To the heart struck with dismay, 
And none knew which, to run or stay. 
St. Germain marked their frantic care 
Grow like the fever of despair, 
And as a leader firm and cool, 
To terror strange, and born to rule, 
The master-genius of an hour, 
When Peril's eye was red and sour, 
Chieftain-like, he gives command, 
" Stir not a man ! but note my plan, 
And fearless, doubtless, stand : 



212 st. Germain's field. 

As ye are men of dauntless faith 
Be that the weapon of the scaith ; 
Draw not a sword, nor utter word, 

Till close the daring foe be nigh, 
When like a chorus one and all 
In praise of great Jehovah call, 

And l Hallelujah !' cry. 
That word shall be of strength a tower, 
And give deliverance from the power, 

Of Pict or Saxon nigh." 

They saw St. Germain as inspired, 
And all with burning zeal were fired, 
A venerable prophet's look 
Was his, and dread their breasts forsook ; 
There grew, in every heart, the sense 
Of frank and fearless confidence, 
In th' Eternal Spirit's power 
And will, to shelter them that hour, 
While in spirit and in truth, 
They prayed away the hour of ruth. 
The Britons saw the foe afar, 
And faith became their mail of war, 
Each grasped a brother's hand and smiled, 
In pure love and faith, not wild 
With mad enthusiastic rage ; 
A holy calm, a peaceful balm, 
Prepared them to engage, 
With arms sublimed by Charity, 
Ne'er used before, and ne'er to be. 

Amidst them, kneeling on the green,. 
St. Germain's sacred form was seen, 



st. Germain's field. 213 

With uplift eyes, to sweet blue skies, 

And venerable mien. 
His hands were clasped upon his breast, 
And he did pray with forceful zest, 

And solemn was the scene. — 

" Thou — spirit of the universe ! 

Whose eye, whose breath, the worlds do pierce, 

Giving life and love and light, 

By thy gracious presence bright — 

Whose thought can every bosom probe, 

And anger agitate the globe, 

Convulse, and into atoms dash, 

With earthquakes, whirlwinds, lightning's flash — 

Be near ! be near ! 

Lord God, hear ! 
Hear thy aged servant's prayer, 
These people in thy mercy spare !" 

The people joined St. Germain's prayer, 
" Oh spare us, God of mercy ! spare." 

" My locks of youth are dropped away, 

That once they said were sunny bright, 

Their remnant scant is very grey, 
And wasted is my might ; 

The many tears that I did weep, 

Have scored my face with furrows deep ; 

My hoary scalp hath long been bare, 

As Time had worn his smooth path there ; 

Mine eyes have lost their vision clear, 

And life hath grown a desert drear, 
A bloomless, thorny field to me ; 



214 st. Germain's field. 

'Tis not the love of life that charms, 
And bids me sue, from battle's harms, 

A fence, great God ! in thee : — 
No ! I but ask in peril's hour, 
To shew these men thy wondrous power ; 

Be near ! be near ! 

Lord God hear ! 
Hear thy aged servant's prayer, 
These people in thy mercy spare !" 

The people joined St. Germain's prayer, 
" Spare us, God ! in mercy spare !" 

"Lo, against us rush a throng, 

A godless people, bold in wrong, 

Invaders of each sacred right, 

Who know no law but savage might — 

Gory as the beasts of prey. 

Who treacherously smite and slay — 

Who from their owners 'reft these vales, 

And now assail their strong hold, Wales ; 

But be this Freedom's citadel ! 

Each clash of arms th' invaders' knell ; 

Confound them on their impious road, 

Arrest their progress mighty God ! 

Unnerve their prowess, and confuse 

Their councils, to a mad misuse ! 

Be thy word of praise a word 

Stronger than the spear or sword — 

Be near ! be near ! 

Lord God bear ! 
Hear thy aged servant's prayer, 
These people in thy mercy spare t" 



st. Germain's field. 215 

The people joined St. Germain's prayer, 
" Spare us, God ! in mercy spare !" 

The Britons still were on their knees — 
The foemen pushed, and forward rushed, 

Like Wolves upon the peaceful fold ; 
The novel scene Pict, Saxon, sees, 

Their progress wondering hold : — 
They gazed astonished, and in doubt, — 
Up rose the Britons, with a shout, 
And " Hallelujah" rends the sky, 
The Picts and Saxons turn and fly — 
St. Germain cries " the shout renew !" 
The pagans heard again and flew ; 
The Britons, like a prisoned flood 
Sudden loosened, on pursued, 
A strong, inspired multitude ; 
A panic seized the pagans rude, 
And many a terror-stricken slave 
Was felled by one firm British glaive, 
Until the battle field was strewed 
With corses thick, that sadly shewed ! 
And scant were they who lived to tell 
What fate their luckless host befel : 
And "Hallelujah !" then became 
The Briton's battle-word of flame ; 
And they did conquer with the thought 
When first its force St. Germain taught, 
While strong remembrance of that day 
Long caused their foes a deep dismay. 



216 



THE 



DIARHEBION OF CATWG. 



Catwg, abbot of Llancarvan, an eminent Welsh ecclesiastic in 
the sixth century, was the tutor of the celebrated bard Taliesin, and 
justly considered the Solomon of that age. The following Aphorisms 
have gained nothing by versification but, perhaps, an easier passage to, 
and stronger hold of, the memory, nor have they suffered, as the greater 
part of them retain their original formation, now, in rhythm. 

Catwg was surnamed "the Wise;" he is distinguished for being the 
first who made a collection of the ancient adages and maxims of the 
Britons, which were considerably augmented by his own compositions. 
There have been some churches dedicated to him. The word " Diar- 
hebion" signifies "Proverbs" or "Aphorisms." 



The Scholar's strength is penetration, and 
The strength of an artizan is in his hand. 
The strength of an infant is his innocence, 
For who could harm it — void of all offence ? 
The strength of the prudent in his silence lies 
And reason is the strength that arms the wise. 
The strength of a poet is his genius; thence 
The strength of an orator is his confidence. 
The strength of an artist is his design, 
And woman's strength is in her charms divine. 



DIARHEBION OF CATWG. 217 

The strength of the brave man is his dauntless heart, 

A teacher's is the method of his arf: 

The strength of a leader is his sciences, 

The strength of conscience, what is just that sees ; 

Of the virtuous, patience in the hours of grief : 

The godly's — charity and firm belief. — 

The strength of the just, against oppression's rod, 

(The source of all strength !) — the eternal God. 



2 F 



21$ 



CADAVEL THE WILD, 



Cadavel, who lived in the sixth century, was a prince of North 
Wales, and is recorded in one of the triads as one of" the three plebian 
princes of the Isle of Britain," and in another consigned to disgrace as 
having inflicted one of " the three heinous hatchet blows" whereby he 
caused the death of Iago ab Beli, sovereign of Gwynedd, or North 
Wales. 



Cadavel, unrelenting foe ! 
Assassin of the hatchet-blow ! 
Plant no flower o'er his grave 
Name him not among the brave ; 
Him deny the great's reward, 
Mound of fame, or song of bard ; 
Accursed ever be his name, 
Perish all his righteous fame, 
That once did beam in claritude, 
Blotted by an action rude ; 
Cadavel, well surnamed "the wild," 
Fierce Slaughter's unrelenting child. 

Cadavel of the drastic arm, 

Whose bearing Glory's eye could charm : 



CADAVEL THE WILD. 219 

Yet not because plebian born 

Consign ye him to hate and scorn. 

Vast exploits shone thence more bright 

Which his crime begrimes in night. 

But what though dauntless in the field. 

And bearings many graced his shield 

Of deeds — his own — -atchieved in war, 

Though boasting not an ancestor — 

One of a million — that alone 

A foiless wondrous brilliant shone ; 

By thousands owned, by thousands praised, 

To majesty and power raised ; 

Yet, let the name of regicide 

Taint all his line and gall his pride ; 

Like a canc'rous macula corrode 

The laurel from his brows abode ; 

Glory's 'scutcheons all consume, 

The knightly crest, and helm, and plume 

Regal crown or bandelet, 

Prize of arms and pomp of state ; 

Cadavel of the heinous deed, 

Take thy blurred and blighted meed ! 

Cadavel of the heart of rage, 
Wild-beast like, that did engage — 
Drive the plough and draw the harrow 
O'er the spot that forms his barrow ; 
Let not a stone remain to tell 
A warrior underneath did dwell ; 
Delete him from the lands archives 
That the brilliant name receives ; 
Or let him live to future time, 
But by his virtues place his crime ; 



220 CADAVEL THE WIL$# 

And heavenly bright though else they be, 

They fade — opposed by cruelty. 

Hence let the chief ferocious learn 

The heart's accursed that scorns to yearn. 

However great the martial name, 

However bright the martial fame, 

However by connection placed. 

By merit raised, or favour graced ; 

The hedge they form Time tramples down, 

Posterity shall smile or frown 

Severely just, as worth or crime 

Shall shade or gild with beam sublime : 

Yes ! those who contristate a land, 

With savage heart or gory hand, 

E'er reft shall be of virent bays, 

Like him the chief of olden days, 

Cadavel, unrelenting foe ! 

Assassin of the hatchet blow, 



m 221 



HILDA'S DEFENCE OF THE BRITONS. 



About the year 660, there happened what was called a religious 
quarrel, between the Britons and the Saxons, concerning the observa- 
tion of the feast of Easter ; the latter having most uncharitably traduced 
the former to the Roman pontiff, scarcely allowing them the name of 
christians ; which gave rise to a disputative contest before the Legate 
from the Roman court, who had been sent hither to enquire into the 
alledged abuse. The accusative part was managed by two Saxon 
monks, named Gilbert and Wilfride ; and the defensive by a British 
monk, named Colman, and a British lady of high rank, named Hilda. 

PowelVs History of Wales. 



Their charge, in bitterness, the Saxons closed, 

And sat them down in silence. Now forward came 

The stately figure of a beauteous woman, 

Right fair to look upon, and bright in youth, 

So queenly — to be desired of princes ! 

'Twas Hilda, the excellent and high-born. 

With modest diffidence the maid began : — 

" If wrongs have stirred the very stones to speak, 

And given voices e'en to injured brutes. 

Marvel not then. Reverend Father, now, 

When fierce malignity arraigns her nation, 

A British maiden thus departs all custom,- 



222 Hilda's defence of the britons. 

Ariel pleadelh in Ihe assembly of the people. 

Now holy sire listen to my words, 

Weigh in thy wisdom and thy justice well, 

Mine adversaries' tale and mine : I seek 

Nor deference nor respect, of birth, or place, 

Nor least allowance for my sex. I come 

To plead my country's righteousness and truth, 

Against the slanders of our Saxon foes : 

Wrongs stir resentment, respect not less my word 

If, when repelling each atrocious charge, 

That honest passion with indignant force 

Should flame with sense of insult : I would deport me 

By reason's regular and lucid star, 

Whose beams on controversy best decides, 

And lights the mind to truth. Hear in your wisdom, 

Pierce error's mist, with bosom-searching glance, 

Deciding holily on the heart's intent, 

With gentle charity and bright-browed candour, 

To influence in your godlike office. 

We hear with marvel, bitterness and grief, 

The holy father of the christian church 

In the far city of imperial Rome, 

Listening to insidious Saxon monks, 

Is wroth with us the Britons ; for that whereas, 

By different modes of calculating time, 

The day of celebrating Easter varies 

With us of Britain, from the Roman mode, 3 

Which to the outward letter of your rules ; 

These formal Pharisees do quaintly practice, 

Your foot-prints treading, leaving none of theirs, 

Like a simpering sycophantic slave, 

A smiling parasite, to please his lord, 



Hilda's defence of the britons. 223 

Flattering with such imitative baseness, 
And watching if another tread awry, 
With tell-tale readiness to make report, 
Enhancing and aggravating each demerit. 

We grant our error, we confess the fault, 
If fault there can be where the heart errs not, 
And dubious evil is the child of chance ; 
Not the offspring of malevolence. But who — 
Who are our detractors reverend father ? 
Who is it points this mole speck in our eye, 
Regardless of the beam which hoodwinks theirs ? 
Who but the last upon the scale of christians, 
The half-converted, heathen-hearted Saxons ! 
A people, notorious through th' indignant world, 
For christianless unholy practices ! — 
Lawless intruders on their neighbour's country, 
E'er scorning landmark or the rule of right, — 
Violators of most solemn treaties, 
And sacred oaths sworn in the face of heaven ; — 
Savage mutilators of captive foes, 
Treacherous as the smiling face of falsehood, 
Who hold their present tenure in our land 
From one successful and most bloody massacre 
In the plot of the long knives. Oh that day ! 
Perfidy's triumph over trusting confidence, 
When fell our gen'rous unsuspecting chieftains, 
The pride, the props, the glory of the land ! 
Victims of the kind, ennobling thought, 
By the curst hands of vile assassin hordes, 
Who thence have grown a nation — our accusers — 
Our Saxon accusers of the present hour. 



224 Hilda's defence of the britons. 

These are the people then, who would brand, 

And point us out as enemies to truth ! — 

Now pause upon th' accuser and accused, 

With the brave daring of a righteous judge, 

Disdaining earthly bias; thus it stands — 

The Britons were a people, wise and civil, 

A coded nation, and in other lands 

Recorded generous, and great, and good, 

Where the rude Saxons were a lawless band, 

Savage, barbarous, cruel, and untaught — 

Yet, these are the people who would brand, 

And point us out as enemies to truth ! 

The Britons were christians, while their foes, 

Their Saxon foes, were heathen infidels, 

Idolatrous worshippers of pagan deities, 

Scythian Odin, Balder, Thor and Freya ; 

A dark, horrible, and mad mythology : — 

And these, then, are the people who would brand, 

And point us out as enemies to truth ! 

When usurpation hath driven monarchs forth, 

Like beggared wanderers, unpitied o'er the earth, 

The Britons ever oped the royal palace, 

Threw wide the hospitable castle gates, 

And cordial welcome gave the refugee, 

The warm right hand of fellowship and love, 

The hearth, the hirlas, and the princely board, 

With powers to recover refted rights. 

The Saxons have been known to murder guests, 

In horrid thriftiness, to gain their lands. 

Yet these are the upstart people who would brand, 

And point us out as enemies to truth. 

The times have been that famine hath stalked forth, 



Hilda's defence of the britons. S25 

Blighting the nations with his breath of pest, 
Harbingered by the blasting tread of war, 
That withers the verdure of humanity — 
And in such an hour have the Britons stood, 
Elated, courteous, unassuming, free, 
Pouring the beneficence of Plenty's horn, 
To the spread lap of national mendicity, 
When foreigners have sued for food. But when — - 
(Answer ye! ye accusers of the Britons) — 
When have the Saxons added such a gem 
As the bright tear of gratitude and love 
To the coronet of their sovereignty ? — 
See you these champions, holy Father ? 
See you these champions — -crestless, dumb, and sullen? 
Truth looks not thus — scowling, fierce, and speechless, 
Like baffled daemons machinating ill! — 
Yet these — are the righteous people who would brand, 
And point us out as enemies to truth ! 
Except in gallant battling in the field, 
The Britons have never been a stubborn race : 
The thoughtless error we in sooth confess, 
And will amend it straight, and willingly ; 
Now having admitted this neglect of form, 
I ask in meekness, and for no offence, 
Which lamp burns brightest in the sight of God, 
That, which lights us with precision nice, 
To catch the outward impress of each custom, 
That men alone have sanctioned in the church, 
Or such neglecting, haply gleams alone, 
Towards glowing charity, fraternal faithfulness, 
And innate purity of christian love ? 
I will not abuse you by a pause for answer, 

2 G 



226 Hilda's defence of the britons. 

But such is tb.' apology of the Britons." 
So closed the inspired, royal, British maid, 
Beautiful in energy, wise, and noble, 
Patriotic, elevated, generous. 
The churchmen marvelled ; and her foes abashed, 
(Her country's foes, the pleaders of the Saxons,) 
Stole from the scene in silence. Loud applause 
From a grateful and admiring multitude 
Attended the chariot of young Hilda home. 



227 



OWEN AP IORWERTH. 



King Henry II. returning from Ireland, with his army afflicted 
with a dreadful distemper, that rendered his expedition there useless, 
landed in Wales, where having made peace with all the princes, except 
Iorwerth, lord of Caerlleon, whom he had grossly wronged, and dis- 
possed of that city ; being incapable of prosecuting further warfare, 
and wishing to preserve himself against further annoyance, he proposed 
terms of peace to Iorwerth, assuring him of a safe conduct for him- 
self, his sons, and all the rest of his associates. Iorwerth willingly 
accepted the proposal, and set forward to meet King Henry at Car- 
diff, having dispatched an express to his son Owen, " a valorous young 
Gentleman," (as Wynne designates him) to join him by the way. 
According to his father's order, the youth commenced his journey, 
with a small retinue, unarmed, and thoughtless of deceit, relying firmly 
on the kingly promise. On passing the new castle upon Uske, the 
earl of Bristol's men, who were there garrisoned, laid in wait for him 
and his party, and on their passing, rushed upon, and slew them all 
except one or two, who escaped and acquainted Iorwerth of this dread- 
ful catastrophe and dastardly murder. 



"Honour's guileless law I prize 
Too well, with doubt to stigmatize 

A bravely proud and generous foe, 
I will not arm, I fear no harm, 

To do my sire's command I go, 



228 OWEN AP IORWERTH. 

The word — the kingly word ! is passed— 
I would not base aspersions cast 

By fearing fraudful woe." 
Young Owen said, and frankness played 

L-ke sunshine on his brow ; 
With slight and armless retinue, 
To join lorwerlh forth he flew. 

With him (their last of Cymru's foes,) 
Hostilities would England close, 
And Henry sends for sire and son, 
To treat of feuds forever done : 
lorwerth, wronged Caerlleon's lord, 
Now soothed by refted rights restored, 
Right glad such gory days should cease, 
Accepts at once the proffered peace, 
And straightly speeds to Cardiff, where 
The English king awaits the pair, 
lorwerth, and his son and heir. 

Obedient to his sire's express, 

Young Owen and his armless train, 

With breathless haste to Cardiff press, 
The Uske at length they gain, — 

And cheerly on their journey move 

'Mid songs of peace and hearts of love. 

Alas, that nobleness should bare 

His breast, nor fear the wily snare — 

Nor deem in bosoms of the free 

And high in state, vile fraud should be I— 

Alas, that hearts so truly just. 

So full of honour, truth, and trust. 



OWEN AP IORWERTH. 229 

So fraught with all opposed to guile, 
Should prove the mark of felon wile ! — 
Alas, alas ! that rule and state, 
Should fail the soul to elevate 
Above the passions of the throng, 
A godlike judge of right and wrong ; 
But like a prey-bird on the weak 
So basely pounce with gory beak ! — 
Alas, that Majesty should stretch 

(God's vicegerent in the land !) 

The treacher's lie, th' assassin hand — - 
A blood-stained royal wretch ! 
Alas for dull humanity, 
That such have been, that such there be ! 
Men merit well their wretched fate 
Such human fiends who tolerate; 

Oh ne'er let man complain, 
Although the petted monster roar, 
Eat his heart, and drink his gore ; — 

His folly earns his pain. 
As on like festal friends they go, 
In ambush lurks the villain foe — 
Beneath the castle through the glen, 
On rushed the earl of Bristol's men, 
The many armed on armless few, 
Like wolves on lambs, a fierce horde ! flew ; 
And spite of regal word of faith, 
Remorselessly in bloody scaith 

The unresisting slew, 
Save two, who 'scaped the tale to tell, 
All, all, in horrid butchery fell. 



230 OWEN AP iOHWERTM. 

Young Owen, with a fatal wound, 
Among the slaughtered on the ground. 
With pallid cheek, and glazing eye, 
Affected e'en the wretches by. 
And on a fresh green flowery bank, 

The dying youth was laid, 
To no lament his lips gave vent, 

But thus low-voiced he said : 
" In gloomy chambers of the sick, 

Death holds his pomp of woe ; 
No prospect fair, no freshening air, 
But weeping friends — contagious care — 

And liberation slow ; 
But here I taste the latest bliss 

This world of beauty yields, — 
Oh let me gaze upon the sky — 
Its blue — its white — is in mine eye — 

The sun is on the fields — 
Each flower in sweets and beauty drest, 
Opes to his beams the loving breast. 

" Engaging are the scenes around, 
Associations dear abound, 

Oh sun ! look kindly on, 
And give me now to think on climes 
That truth and purity sublimes, 

Where I shall be anon. 
'Tis sweet to die, when dying thus, 

A fragrance breathes the air — 
And there be those will weep my death, 
And there be bards, and harps, whose breath 

My song of fame shall rear : 



OWEN AP IORWERTH. 231 

And there's a maid whose heart is mine, 

That heart with me will die, 
And she will droop in heartlessness, 

Till by my side she lie ; 
Oh she will ne'er the lone hour bear, 

Stern griefs warm hearts controul, 
Soft beauties grace her virgin cheek, 

Of bosom fond, of spirit meek, 

And gentle is her soul." 
Ah gently ebbs my life away, 

As gently sinks the sun, 
Oh may my soul no longer stay, 

Than till his race be done ; 
Oh may these weak eyes view no sky 

But what its setting gilds, 
'Tis sweet to look, thus, life away, 
And die as dies the summer day, 

Ere sunbeams shun the fields." 
He said ; — the sun shone on his face-— 

And, as in slumber, dozed, 
A look of^nild serenity 

Composed his features — sweet to see! — 

And Owen's eyelids closed : 
And by the time the sun had siink 

In blue waves of the west, 
Owen's streams of life had flowed, 
And life passed from him as a load, 

And Owen's soul was blessed. 

The talc soon to lorwerth came — 
His soul was wild, his heart was (lame. 



232 OWEN AP IORWERTH. 

All thought of peace was banished far, 
" Revenge !" he cried, " revenge and war! 
Ne'er to close till Cymru's smile 
Shall triumph over Saxon guile !" 
Forth he rushed in dreadful ire, 
Destroying all with sword and fire, 
On, on, he rushed with fire and sword, 
To Glo'ster's gates, o'er Hereford, 
And wrought upon his Saxon foes 
Dire revenge, and ruinous woes ! 
Flaming towns and perished throngs, 
Scarce sated his deep, hearted wrongs, 
The last faint gust of life he breathed 
In hate of them, with sword unsheathed. 



As soon as intelligence of his son's death reached lorwerth, he, with 
wordless promptitude of resolution, determined to rely no more on the 
faith of the king of England or any of his subjects, and without further 
consultation, returned home with his son Howe!, and all his friends, 
with whose aid he raised all his forces he was able, and entering En- 
gland, he destroyed with fire and sword, all the country to the gates of 
Hereford and Gloucester, and never till his death sheathed his sword, 
so justly drawn, against the treacherous English. 



233 



THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 



Ivor Bach, a Briton who dwelt in the mountains, a man of small 
stature, as his surname imports, but of the most resolute courage, 
marched by night with a band of soldiers, and seized Cardiff castle, 
carrying away William, Earl of Gloucester, (Fitzhammon's grandson 
by the daughter,) together with his wife and son, whom he detained 
prisoners, till he had received satisfaction for all injuries. 

Camden. 

The object of this bold enterprize was to rescue from the power of 
the English, a lady to whom he was tenderly attached, the daughter of 
Iestyn ap Gwrgant ; being refused to his entreaties, he stormed the 
castle and took her by force. 

The residence of Ivor Bach was Castell Coch, (i. e. the Red Castle,) 
an outpost of Cardiff. 



Achiever of the gallant feat, 
Of stature low, but prowess great, 
Ivor of the warring days ! 
The song of fame to thee we raise. 

" My lady love is torn from me !" 
Ivor Bach sighed mournfully, 
" Virtue's gem, and Beauty's flower, 
A captive in the Norman's power : 
2 n 



234: THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 

The grassless rock amid the sea, 
That lash the billows savagely, 
The northern blast its minstrel lay, 
'Mid shriek of gulls and birds of prey, 
Is not of pleasure more divest, 
Is not more lonely than my breast ! 
Since reft of her — my fair and sweet ! 
My soft and young — in charms replete ! 
Whose heart to win vain others strove, 
My all that's dear— my lady love." 

A bard was singing in his hall, 

His song was dull to Ivor, all, 

Though thus his strain ran, " greatly dare, 

Oh greatly do — and win and wear !" 

The harp strain e'en increased his cares, 

And up he trod the stony stairs 

That to his lawny turrets led, 

And in his anguish thus he said, 

" My lady love is straight and tall, 

And I am broad, of stature small — 

Perchance more courtly ones she'll see, 

Repent her choice, disdaining me ; — 

My lady love is fairly graced 

With winning look and mind of taste; 

But I am formed of rugged stuff, 

As the storm-lashed ocean rough — 

A comely form and nattering tongue 

May win her while my foes among, 

And yet the brightest she may view, 

Oh ne'er possessed a heart more true 

She'll soon forget her Ivor Bach, 

And all the charms of Castell Coch, 






THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 235 

" And can she e'er so faithless prove ? 

I wrong, I wrong, my lady love ! 

Oft, oft, upon this airy tower 

Sat she with me the sunset hour, 

And in that sweetly tranquil time, 

When human souls aspire, sublime, 

In all the glow of virgin youth, 

Once vowed to Heaven's God of truth, 

That Ivor Bach her lord should prove. 

So sweetly swore my lady love. 

Alas, alas, to mourn is vain, 

How, how, to still this maddening brain ? 

Oh how this anguished heart to sooth ?" — - 

Aloud resounds the minstrel's crwth,* 

And thus the strain ran, u greatly dare, 

Oh greatly do, and win and wear !" 

At once his soul the meaning caught, 
At once engenders daring thought, 
u Yes ! bard, thy counsel I pursue ! 
Aye, greatly dare — and greatly do ! 
What ho ! my friends, retainers, all ! 
Arm ! arm ! I quit my castle hall, 
Betide me joy ! betide me bane ! 
E'en be I victor, be I slain, 
This night that fortress fell, I force, 
And win my love or fall a corse ! 
By all my vales and hills below ! 
By morning's blush and even's glow ! 
And by yon blessed moon above ! 
I'll die or free my lady love !" 

* A portable instrument, a small harp. Pronounced crootli. 



236 THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 

His bard the rising passion notes, 
Bearing brave, aspiring thoughts, 
And sings with ardour, " greatly dare, 
Oh greatly do, and win and wear !" 
His few in arms shout loud applause, 
And vow to perish in the cause, 
Or free the lady from the foe, 
Ere blush the sky with morning's glow. 

True of soul and warm of heart, 
Forth Ivor and his train depart ; 
The night was young and Luna new. 
Fresh the breeze, the stars were few, 
But bright the beams of Valour's lamp ! 
As one firm step the warriors tramp, 
And not a buzz, and not a word, 
To startle quiet Night was heard ; 
Nought save the stilly awful tread, 
By silence solemnized to dread ; 
In stillness worked the active mind, 
In darkness Valour's beam was kind, 
And by the light of Valour's flame 
They soon to Cardiff castle came. 

There was a sound of reveling, 
Hilarious shout and festal din ; 
The song of mirth, the laugh of joy, 
And all that Pleasure's heart can buoy ; — 
First the bard approached the moat, 
And harped the strain of tender thought ; 
The draw-bridge drops to welcome him 
Who passes o'er in bardic trim ; 



THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 237 

Next Ivor passed with all his train, 

And all, at once, the castle gain, 

Twas thought they're tenants of their lord 

Who sought the hospitable board ; — 

Beneath the cloak each sword was hid, 

And to the wassail hall they're bid ; 

They entered ere a toast was drank, 

Just proposed by one of rank, 

" Here's to the captived British maid 

A Norman lord!" no more he said — 

The bowl was dashed from every hand, 

By Ivor and his rushing band ; 

All wild as sheep when thunder howls 

Fled the Normans from their bowls ; 

All wild as chaos shunning light, 

Fled peace and pleasure from the night ; 

Loud tumult and confusion rose, 

The Normans smote their friends as foes, 

While night the form and features mask, 

And save the Britons half their task, 

Who make, but no disorder share, 

Their secret password — " win and wear !" 

To fight like devils either fell, 

The clash of swords — th' alarum bell — 

That scarcely drown the groan and shriek, 

Continue to the morning's break, 

With cries of "yield !" below, above, 

" Yield, and bring forth my lady love !" 

Amid the din of conflict drear, 

Fell upon, and stunned the ear ; 

And oft was heard the minstrel strain, 

That sung again, and aye again, 



238 THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 

a Fight Ivor, fight ! oh greatly dare, 

Oh greatly do, and win and wear !" 

" I will !" cried Ivor with a laugh, 

And tore the banner from the staff; 

The hardy, nervous, brawny dwarf, 

Then clad him with it as a scarf; — 

Like Ocean wakened to a calm 

The battling ceases, erst so warm, 

But wherefore should the tumult cease ? 

Is't pause of war ? or is it peace ? 

And is the hour of slaughter done ? 

Then who has lost ? and who has won ? 

The Normans chained, with nerve unstrung, 

Triumphant shouts in British tongue, 

Answers more than word can speak, 

Or doubt ye — look on Ivor's cheek \ 

As clasps he her held deeply dear, 

Restored to joy from thrilling fear, 

Long prisoned in the tower above, 

His heart, his soul, his lady love. 

Yes ! Glo'ster and his hundreds fail, 

Stout Ivor and his few prevail, 

He — even he ! stern Glo'ster's earl. 

While Ivor wins the lovely girl ! 

Mounted on her palfrey white 

She rides beside her gallant knight, 

While manacled the Saxons move, 

They interchange sweet word of love ; 

The bard, enraptured, sweeps the strings, 

Proudly looks and sweetly sings, 

His burthen " knight, thy trophies wear, 

'Twas thine to do — 'twas thine to dare 1" 



THE TRIUMPH OF IVOR BACH. 239 

" Bard !" cried Ivor in his pride, 

u Thy song has won my lovely bride, 

Blessings on the bardic art, 

That nerves the soul and mends the heart, — 

Eternal blessings ! forth it leads, 

To love, to truth, to gallant deeds, 

To all that's gen'rous, good, and bright, 

Whence shines the world — a land of light ! 

Inert and purposeless I moved, 

Vainly mourned, and vainly loved, 

Till quickened by thy muse of fire, 

My ardour flamed with daring's ire ; 

No difficulties hence o'erwhelm ! 

For blazing on my plumed helm, 

Beneath my crest thy words I'll bear, 

That sunshine motto a Win and Wear"' 



Ivor Bach was afterwards slain in a Valley thence called " Pant- 
Coed-Ivor," which implies " The Woody Plain of Ivor." 



240 



SIR TUDOR VAUGHAN, 

THE SELF-CREATED KNIGHT. 



In the time of King Edward III. lived Sir Tudor Vaughan ap Grono, 
who assumed the honour of Knighthood: King Edward being informed 
of it, sent for him and enquired with what confidence he durst invade 
his prerogative ? Sir Tudor replied that by the law and constitution of 
King Arthur, he had the liberty of taking upon himself the title, in 
regard he had those three qualifications, which whosoever was pos- 
sessed of, could by those laws, claim the honour of Knighthood. 1. He 
was a gentleman; 2. He had sufficient estate; and, 3. He was valiant and 
adventurous, adding, " If my valour be doubted of, here I throw my 
glove, and for proof of my courage, I am ready to fight any man." 
The King approving of his resolution and prowess, confirmed the 
honour. King Henry VII. was a lineal descendant of this self-created 
Knight. 



It chanced, as chronicles the tale relate, 
In the far days of England's third King Edward, 
That certain whisp'ring parasites there were, 
(Base royal earwigs, pick-thanks of the throne. 
Officious meddlers, hunters of commodity !) 
Like droning wasps, a certain story buzzed, 
That soon was echoed to the ear of majesty, 
And thus 'twas told the king. 

" An't please my liege, 
There's a certain lawless one, a daring chief, 



SIR TUDOR VAUGHAN. 241 

An insolent, o'erbearing, blustering rudesby, 

A rascal Welshman — a mere mountain 'squire ! 

Scorning your majesty's most high prerogative, 

Your crown of royalty and kingly office, 

Has dared announce himself a self-made knight ; 

Usurping blasphemously knightly title, 

And royal donorship whence such should emanate, 

Thence it standeth double usurpation. — 

Sir Tudor Vaughan of Grono is he called, 

Somewhat of note among the scoundrel Britons, 

But scorned of us, high Normanders and Saxons." 

A day was fixed on to accite, 

Before the king the self-made knight, 

And those who boasted legal claims, 

Anticipating scorns and shames 

On him, the luckless summoned one, 

Manhood's boast and honour's son ! 

Cracked many a scurvy jest and jeer, 

With envious lip and hateful sneer'; 

Each foretelling — all and one — 

The downfall of Sir Tudor Vaughan : 

But when the day appointed came, 

The self-made knight, in steel mail bright, 

There answered to his name. 

He answered firmly, bold, and loud, 

And forced his passage through the crowd, 

The king beheld the stately form 
And honest face of manly charm, 
That dauntless as the god of war, 
Or midst the less a ruling star, 
2 i 



242 SIR TUDOR VAUGHAN. 

As stood he 'mong his courtly train — 

He viewed the gallant man with pain, 

And cried " by blessed Mary's love, 

By holy John and all above, 

'T would grieve me much the law should touch, 

Should he impostor prove ; 

A man whose bearings bright express 

The acme of all nobleness!" 

" Guilty to the charge I plead, 

Yet guilty am I not indeed ! 

In sooth 'tis true no regal sword, 

Nor e'en deputed noble lord, 

E'er honoured me with knightly belt, 

But knightly zest and pride I felt ; 

And be it wrong or be it right, 

E'en here I stand — a self-made knight; 

But my defence let none reject," 

Sir Tudor cried, and stood erect. 

All marvelled, with expanded eyes, 

" Oh what audacity !" each cries ; 

King Edward cried, " go on ! go on ! 

Defend thyself Sir Tudor Vaughan." 

" In British Arthur's ancient code 
There is a law, whence 'tis allowed, 
Whoso these requisites possess, 
Might be a knight by native right, 
And sooth my claim's no less ! — 
'Twas thus the requisition ran, 
That he must be a gentleman, 



SIR TUDOR VAUGHAN. 243 

Valiant and adventurous, 

Of goodly state and goodly house : 

And where is he, that breathes the air, 

Denies me these distinctions fair ? — 

And where is »he that treads the earth, 

Denies me valour, learning, worth ? — 

And where is he whose word can ban, 

Disproving me a gentleman ? 

I have friends, and I have foes, 

My heart for these, my scorn for those ! 

Though standing on the Saxon's land, 

Defy I spite and envy's band ! 

And here, erect, before the throne, 

Who'll dare confront Sir Tudor Vaughan ?" 

The herald echoes forth his words, 
But fell no gauntlets, gleamed no swords ; 
The herald calls aloud again, 
But still as death did all remain — 
Again — all's hush as earliest dawn — 
None dared confront Sir Tudor Vaughan. 

Still there was silence through the throng ; 

High pride and consciousness of wrong 

Arrayed the gallant Welshman's front, 

Mettled for the direst brunt, 

As boldly glanced he here and there 

For some daring challenger ; 

Tho' stood there barons, knights, and squires, 

Mighty chiefs, of mighty sires, 

And gallant gentlemen, yet none 

Stood forth to face Sir Tudor Vaughan. 



244 SIR TUDOR VAUGHAN. 

If my sovereign good and great 

Doubts the extent of my estate, 

I'll entertain his court unpaid 

My king and knightly cavalcade, 

As long as he or they will deign 

Beneath my humble roof remain : 

Doubt they I'm a gentleman, 

Let doctors wise my learning scan ; 

Or let the humblest here accuse 

Of wrong, injustice, or misuse ; 

And whoso doubts me truly brave, 

Here's my gauntlet, here's my glaive." 

Oh ! when the noble soul's unhoused 

From Merit's dome, thrust from its home, 

To vindication roused, — 

Roused to battle for its right — 

What so lovely, what so bright 2 

No more inert, it will assert 

In grandeur of its might, 

Show innate brilliances unknown, 

Thus injuries were foils to his 

The brave Sir Tudor Vaughan. 

And there were in that courtly train, 
Liberal spirits venting pain, 
To see for accusation's mark 
Valour's true and brightest spark ; 
And admiration of his bearing, 
Gallant mien and manly daring, 
Graced young and old, and gay and wise, 
And there were drops in beauty's eyes, 



SIR TUDOR VAUGHAN. 24.5 

That hallowed his triumphant hour 

Beyond th' approving glance of power : — 

" Stand up ! I would not have thee kneel," 

King Edward cried, and bared his steel, 

" Oh thou, of prowess so commanding ! 

Ennobled well by nature thou ! 

'Twere ill in me to see thee low — 

I'll knight thee, Briton, standing 

Erect as thy integrity, 

Sir Tudor Vaughan henceforward be !" 

And when the king thus dubbed him knight, 

His base accusers slunk away 

Like owlets from meridian ray, 

And chewed the cud of spite. 

Though there stood mighty chiefs of war 

Whose proud hearts beat beneath a star, 

Ermined barons, gold-browed lords, 

Of mighty name and deedful swords, 

Mitred prelates clad in lawn, — 

The proudest there could not compare, 

In manly grace and princely face, 

With brave Sir Tudor Vaughan. 



246 



SIR DAVID GAM. 



The hostile bearing of this chieftain, in conjunction with his cousin 
Howel Sele) towards their more celebrated kinsman Owen Glyndower, 
whom he attempted to assassinate, has given him rather a black page 
in Welsh history, illumined, however, with liberal records of his daunt- 
less valour : and more especially his celebrated answer to King Henry 
V., previous to the battle of Agincourt, when sent to reconnoitre the 
enemy, — " An't please your majesty," said he, " there are enough tobe 
killed, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away." In the 
battle, David, his son-in-law Roger Vychan, and his relation Walter 
Lloyd, rescued the king when surrounded by his foes (viz. eighteen 
French cavaliers), whose life they saved at the expence of their own ? 
and killed fourteen of the enemy : the king after the victory approached 
the spot where they lay, in the agonies of death, andbestowedon them 
the only reward that could be then paid to their valour, the honour of 
knighthood. Shakspeare in his play of King Henry V. designated 
Sir David Gam under the name of Fluellin. 



My Countryman of olden days, 
Bold David Gam demands my lays ! 
Who on the gory Gallic plain, 
Rests among the valiant slain ; — 
He who doth fill a hero's grave, 
Oh he — the bravest of the brave ! 

To battle France when o'er the main, 
Harry of Monmouth led his train, 



SIR DAVID GAM. 247 

Of bearing bright and gallant mien, 

The 'Squire of Wales brave Gam was seen, 

Proud chivalry's undaunted son, 

As Beauty's heart e'er caught or won. 

'Twas near the towers of Agincourt, 

Where mad Bellona ruled the sport ; 

King Henry sent his herald out, 

The foe to number, weak and stout : 

And he a tale, so fearful, told — 

Its breathing chilled both faint and bold. 

'Twas like the tale the stripling tells, 

With faltering tongue that terror swells, 

Of spirits yell in church-yard drear, 

Wild-eyed, wall-cheeked, heart throbbed with fear — 

Which strikes the listeners aghast, 

Like forms that death's dread hour had past. 

" The foes are like the stars of night, — 
Their number such, their arms as bright ! — 
The foes are like the northern wind, 
Of strength too vast to be defined ; 
And, oh ! our lot if them we face, 
Despair, discomfiture, disgrace. 

" Oh wildly awful is the hour ! 

In madness let's not face their power ; 

Or as if borne by torrents force, 

In ruin's tide sink foot and horse ! 

Like boats engulphed wiihin the deep 

Or sand before the whirlwind's sweep ! 



248 SIR DAVID GAM. 

" As o'er the country bleak and bare, 

Shivering in the sleety air, 

I rode, roused by my startled steed, 

That bathed in sweat then sprang and neighed, 

I saw a sight — I see it still — 

That haunt and thrill me ever will ! 

'" I saw of wolves a deadly horde, 
Rush down the hill — the river ford — 
(Grim, panting, and fire-eyed they were !) 
Cross the vale, three travellers tear — 
And quick their steeds and them devour — 
An omen 'twas, of France's power ! 

u The wolves — oh fierce and mighty they ! 

Left not a remnant of their prey, 

E'en from the earth they lapped their gore ; — • 

Soon all seemed — as 'twas before : — 

And rooted from the earth ; so we 

By thy fell war-wolves, France ! shall be. 

" E'en now, as o'er the vale I sped, 
The birds that prey upon the dead, 
A baleful flight ! that like a cloud, 
Did shade the earth, and shriek aloud, 
(Them famishment had nerved with ire,) 
Rushed furious by — an omen dire !" 

David Gam told another tale, 
" I've marked the foe on hill and dale ; 
Why there's enough — enough ! that's all — 
Enough to fight, enough to fall, 



SIJR DAVID GAM. 249 

Enough to grace our triumph gay, 
And full enough to run away /" 

Soon the mountain squire's story brave, 

To cooling bosoms ardour gave — 

When on they rushed and charged ; — how well 

The fame of Agincourt can tell ! 

Where, bleeding on the field of fight, 

The dying Gam was dubbed a knight. 

« Arise" — King Henry cried, " Sir Knight !" 

He rose — but 'twas to Heaven's height ! — 

And ne'er at voice of potentate 

Rose knight before, so high or great. — 

The royal youth compassion shed, 

And bathed with tears the valiant dead. 

My countryman of olden days, 
Bold David Gam, demands my lays ! 
Who, on the gory Gallic plain, 
Rests among the valiant slain. — 
He who doth fill a hero's grave, 
Oh he — the bravest of the brave ! 



When David Gam's plot for assassinating Owen GJyndower was 
discovered, he was arrested and imprisoned ten years at Machynlleth, 
whence all the influence and power of his English friends could not 
release him. " The prison" (as described by Mr. Pennant,) " where 
Owen kept his captives, was not far from his house, in the parish of 
Llansantflraid Glyndwrdwy ; and the place is to this day called Car- 
chardy Owen Glyndwrdwy . Some remains are still to be seen near the 
church, which form part of a habitable house. It consists of a room, 
thirteen feet square, and ten and a half high ; the sides consist of three 
horizontal beams, with upright planks, not four inches asunder, mor^ 
tised into them : in these are groves with holes in the bottom, as if 

2 K 



250 SIR DVVID GAM. 

there had been originally cross bars or grates ; the roof is exceedingly 
firm, composed of strong planks almost contiguous ; it seems as if it 
had been two stories, but the upper part is evidently modern." Not 
long after securing David Gam, Owen visited the marches of Wales, 
destroying all inimical to his interests, with fire and sword. Gam's 
house was burnt, and during the conflagration, calling to one of David's 
tenants, Owen, with all the sangfroid imaginable, spoke to him in 
verse, thus; 

O gweli di wr coch Cam 

Yn ymovin y Gyrnigwen 
Dywed ei bod hi tan y Ian. 

A nod y glo ar ei phen. 

TRANSLATION. 

See'st thou a red-haired squinting man, 

His lost sheep anxious seeking, 
Tell him she lies beneath the hill, 

With marks of fire reeking. 

David Gam was a brother-in-law of Glyndower's, having married 
one of his sisters. His name of Gam, signifies the one-eyed. Carte 
says that he was instigated to attempt the destruction of Owen by 
Henry IV. ; from which charge Pennant exculpates that monarch, 
and attributes his intention to party zeal. 



251 



OWEN TUDOR. 



Soon after the death of King Henry V. Catherine, his widow, became 
enamoured of the manly graces of Owen Tudor, whom she married. 
The introduction of Owen, according to Drayton's epistles, was sin- 
gular ; "he being a courtly and active gentleman, was commanded 
once to dance before the queen, and in a turn, not being able to reco- 
ver himself, fell into her lap, as she sate on a little stool, with many 
of her ladies about her." 



Heard ye of Owen Tudor's fame, 

First of that royal race, 
The brightest gems that Britain's throne 

Did ever deck or grace — 
Founder of the British line 
That gave Eliza's name to shine — 

That gallant knight of Wales ? 
Heard ye of the graceful feats 
In which the ancient legend treats 

Of him, in sprightly tales ? 
How once he graced a tournament, 

And vanquished every Saxon knight, 
And how Harry Monmouth's queen, 
The buxom widow Catherine, 

Was ravished with the sight ? 



252 



OWEN TUDOR. 



And how after tournament, 
In vest of gold and green, 

The handsome Owen Tudor came 
And danced before the queen ? 

The people of my mountain land 

Delight his name to hear, 
And I delight to tell the tale, 

And vaunt it far and near ; 
Oh who that loves Eliza's name, 

So great in peace and war, 
The bright and glorious virgin queen ! 
But pleased will glance upon the scene 

Of this her ancestor ? 
Then listen to the merry lay 
Of chivalry's own halcyon day, 

Though ages intervene^ 
And list ye to the Welshman's fame, 
How Owen Tudor gayly came 

And danced before the queen. 

" And who is that youth, so tall and straight, 

Of graceful tread and princely gait — 

Of face so glad, so fairly clad, 

O'ertowering all in height?" 

Enquired the quick-eyed Catherine, 

And thus her ladies told the queen. 

" They say he comes from distant vales, 

'Tis even he the knight of Wales, 

Before whose prowess others bent 

So lately in the tournament : — 



OWEN TUDOR. 253 

'Tis said he his of royal line, 

His ancestors high-famed did shine, 

The Britons of the days of yore, 

But now his country is no more ! 

Great hearts were broken when so banned 

To be a province of this land. 

And he has fought in Harry's train 

In Gallic fields beyond the main, 

And never a knight that wielded lance 

Among the conquerers of France, 

Or whispered in a lady's ear 

A true-love tale, with him may peer, 

For the gay and courteous art, 

Beauteous look, or manly heart." 

" Now, by my faith, 'tis fairly said I 
And well I believe thee gentle maid, 
None that resort our father's court, 
Or this, or Spain's, can equal his porte." 
The queen replied, as his form she eyed, 
And gazed, and gazed again, and sighed, 
" Now go to the knight so tall and bright, 

Clad ia the vest of green, 
That we so admire, say we desire 

He'll dance before the queen." 
And he approached with fitful pace, 

And bowed with graceful mien ; 
And he did dance to many a tune, 

Now wild as Love, now gay as June, 

Before the merry queen. 

His hair of glossy ringlets black, 
Hung in luxurious profusion, 



254 



OWEN TUDOR. 



And waved to and fro, as he danced with wild glow, 

In beautiful reckless confusion. 
Queen Catherine gazed, and the court ladies praised, 

Some his green vest with orange galoon, 
A nd bright to behold were the flowers of gold, 

That embroidered his trunks and shoon ; 
And some more quick-sighted were rather delighted 

His shapely leg in silk hose to discover, 
While Catherine vowed to the court aloud, 
That, save Harry Monmouth, now cold in his shroud, 

She ne'er beheld knight so clever. 

And he danced and danced — Owen Tudor danced ! 
While beauty's bright eyes admiration glanced. 

His face spoke the gay heart's enjoyment; 
His locks danced the while and his mouth bore a smile, 

Speaking bliss, void of care's alloyment, 
Pearly gems 'mid rose wreath, seemed his perfect 
white teeth, 

Within lips that a gay smile severed ; 
The buoyant spirit, the elastic limb, 
The bright eye that seemed in delight to swim. 

The lady's gallant discovered, 
And his greatful mien, to the thoughts of the queen, 

Like the Genius of Beauty hovered. 

And he danced and danced — Owen Tudor danced ! 
Lords lauded, and ladies approval glanced, 

That shot to his heart a wild spirit, 
Not a nerve of his frame was dormant ; the knight 
Danced and danced with a zest of delight, 

As the queen looked confession of merit : 



OWEN TUDOR. 255 

And looked the fond thought in the depth of the soul 

The passion that no female art can controul : 

Now her bosom fast heaved — anon she look grieved, 

Then vivid with admiration, 
Then strives to conceal what her looks reveal, 

With wit's cunning conversation. 

Disdaining to shew exhaustion's throe, 

Or gradual ebb of vigour, 
He tapped the floor as theretofore, 

With resolution's vigour ; 
And still he swam around ! around ! 
And still he sprang with many a bound ! 

But soon chanced a luckj/ mishap — 
In a turn of agility past his ability, 

He fell in the fair queen's lap ; 
With fear she saw his balance lost 
Her heart with sudden terror tossed — 
Her face depicts the mental yearn, 
Her ladies mark the wild concern — 
Instinctively her lap and arms 
She spreads — lost in her heart's alarms — 
And instantaneous as a thought, 
The gallant knight in her lap she caught. 
Half senseless there, on her bosom fair, 

His head was awhile reclined ; 
Again and again she asked of his pain, 

With a tone of affection kind : 
She passed her kerchief to and fro 
O'er his hot face and reeking brow, 
As on her lap he did remain, 
Oh happy knight ! sweet moments twain. 



256 



OWEN TUDOR, 



Oh happy knight ! oh hours bright ! 

But brighter soon were seen ; 
And he had cause to bless the day, 
When in gallantry's array, 

He danced before the queen. 

And from that hour the royal dame 

Found hard from him to sever, 
And vowed to cage, from Fortune's rage, 

Her own dear bird forever ; 
And he hath sworn by all above, 
His loving queen for aye to love, 

Enraptured as he viewed her, 
And Catherine hath told aloud, 
To all the land and courtly crowd, 
And o'er the main to France and Spain, 
With many lands beside the twain, 

Her love for Owen Tudor :* — 
And she was seen in bridal trim, 
And she hath pledged her troth to him : 
Thence was seen the royal race, 
Britain's gems and brightest grace ! 5 — - 
Thence the long-crashed Cambria too, 

Erects with pride her mien, 
Her bards' predictions proving true, 

And pleasingly I ween, 
Not brought about by gory rout, 

But in the day serene, 
A day of mirth and gallant sport, 
When Owen Tudor came to court, 

And danced before the Queen. 



257 



JOHN AP MEREDITH ■ 



OR, THE 



SQUIER Y GRAITH. 



Owen Tudor, of the Lancastrian party, having been taken prisoner 
by the Yorkists, and confined in Uske castle, his cousin, John ap Me- 
redith, and a hundred more Welshmen, with an intention of rescuing 
his kinsman, repaired to Uske castle. On their return, within two 
miles of Caerlleon, they were suddenly beset by a superior number of 
the York party, when, supposing destruction inevitable, Meredith 
harrangued his companions, to impress them with a consciousness of the 
necessity to maintain the honour, prowess, and credit, of their ances- 
tors ; " Let it never be said by posterity," added he, " that here a 
hundred gentlemen of North Wales fled, but rather let the place be 
memorable as the honoured spot where a hundred patriots were slain, 
in opposing an unequal force." Thus assuming courage from despair, 
he so arranged his small detachment, placing Howel ap Llewelyn, and 
some others (who were the only sons of their fathers, and as such, suc- 
cessors in their name and inheritance,) in the rear, and out of the brunt 
of the at'ack, whilst all his own sons were drawn out in the van, headed 
by himself, to death or victory. The onset was tremendous ; he opened 
a passage with his sword, and the enemy was defeated. A scar from a 
wound in the face, caused him to his dying day to be called Squier y 
Graith, or the Squire of the Scar. 



"IV as near the fortress on the Uske,. 
And hours four ere even's dusk, 
2 L 



258 JOHN A? MEREDITH. 

Meredith* and his hundred true, 

To rescue Owen Tudor flew, 

Who, a captive drew the breath 

Of one, for certain, doomed to death; — 

And soon these pride-braved sons of war. 

Disdaining each opposing bar, 

With triumph's shout and. knightly glee, 

Hail the noble captive free, 

And homeward bend their fearless course^ 

Nor dream of foemen's hidden force. 

Now as they wind the rocky screen, 

'Twixt ambushed foes that intervene, 

Horror-struck, they turn, as lost, 

And fly before the Yorkist host; 

Who detached far o'er the ground. 

Too soon the valiant few surround. 

" Cease, cease to fly ! turn, stand, and die, 

Like gallant warriors, sword in hand !" 
Meredith cried, with desperate pride, 

And checked his flying band : 
His words were like a thunder peal, 
All to the heart's core strongly feel 

The just rebuke with shame, 
And stand as still as stag-hounds will, 

Who hear the hunter's blame ; 
And thus with vehemence, he cried, 
That roused each warrior's latent pride. 
" What, though the Yorkists now prevail, 
And in our enterpize we fail ; — 

* This name, to sound poetical, should have the accent placed on 
the second syllable, (the Welsh mode,) the English, very unaccount- 
ably accentuate it on the first. 



JOHN AP MEREDITH. %59 

Ne'er let fail the manly heart, 
Ne'er fail we in the gallant part ! 
As die we must, (we cannot burst 

The subtle toils around us cast,) 
Though closed around, let us be found 

Still battling to the last, 
Face to foe and sword in hand, 
Whence we'll be famed, and future named 

The single-hearted band. 
Shall it be told in future tales 

When pointing to this spot, 
A hundred gentlemen of Wales 

Their ancestors forgot, 
And fled, like cowards, from this place. 
Gashed with back-wounds of disgrace ? 
No ! let posterity with pride 
Say, here a hundred Welshman died, 

Who faced th' unequal brunt, 
And not one fled ; of those here dead, 

Each bore his wound in front." 

The flying band, like God's command, 

Heard their chieftain's burning words, 

And turned about with valour stout, 
Firm grasping deadly swords ; 

And each of all the hundred cries, 

"Accurst! accurst! be he that flies." 

The fury of devoted men 

Burnt in each ardent bosom then ; 

No words but these formed cither's breath, 

" On ! on ! to victory or death !" 



260 



JOHN AP MEREDITH. 

They saw the sun sink in waves, 
And thought alone of valour's graves ; 
They saw its last gleams o'er the main, — 
As red it blazed, each, steady, gazed 
The sad farewell of pain. 

Calmness cool Meredith graced, 
And his detachment thus he placed — 
(The good, the great, the gallant man !) 
Himself and sons, first in the van, 
But in the rear was every heir, 

To spare whom was his plan. 
"Ye sons of mighty houses ! ye 
May chieftain's give in times to be ; 
If of this brave nest Death will dine, 
First let him feast on me and mine 1" 
He cried, and gave the battle word, 
The solid host a phalanx stirred ; 
Tremendous was the onset crash, 
As hewing down they forward dash, 
Cutting through the foes a lane — 
Bellona's madness, frantic gladness, 

Marked each, with rage insane. 

Oh what can not the brave atcheive ! 
Time saw fair maids their chaplets weave, 
The conquerors of that desperate day, 
When many to the few gave way. 
A scar of honour in the face, 
Did John Meredith fairly grace, 
Whence was he called (the record saith), 
To his death day the Squier y Graith. 



261 



THE WIFE OF AP ROBIN, 



In the civil wars of the white and red rose, distinguishing the rival 
houses of York and Lancaster, the Welsh sided with the different par- 
tics according to their political opinions of right. The earl of Pem- 
broke, during his desolating warfare in North Wales, and according to 
his rigid system of severity, having taken Thomas ap Robin of Coch- 
willan, prisoner, beheaded him, near Conway castle, for no other cause 
than that he was an adherent of the house of Lancaster. His wife, a 
pattern of conjugal fidelity, witnessed the execution, and carried off 
her husband's head in her apron. Previous to the memorable battle of 
Dane%moor, near Banbury, Northamptonshire, the earl of Pembroke 
and Lord Stafford quarrelling for an inn for their quarters, at Banbury, 
gave the earl of Warwick an opportunity to attack them, when Pem- 
broke, and his much celebrated kinsman, Sir Richard Herbert, of 
Coldbrook were taken prisoners and — beheaded! thus the judge 
became the criminal, for the same alleged offence, accomplishing an 
awful retribution. 



u Earl Pembroke, must my husband die ?" 
66 Of a surety yea !" — was the earl's reply; — - 
u The word is passed, the word of fate, 
He dies to-morrow morn at eight." 
The wife of Ap Robin then ceased her sobbing, 
And marked him with dauntless eye. 

a In sooth it is a useless task — 

I know he will die — and need not ask- • 



262 THE WIFE OF AP HOBIN. 

Oh I bow me to this bruizing rod — 
Oh I bow me low to the will of God ! 
But list, Earl Herbert, list to me, 
A fate as cruel awaiteth thee !" 
Thus said the dame in words of flame, 
That, bursting, like inspiration came, 
Which, sudden, dashed earl Herbert's pride, 
Who looked in her face, as he would trace 

If truth her words supplied; — 
" Thou foolish woman !" he cried at length, 
" To bait the lion in his strength — 
But thou art sad, perchance art mad, 

And I would not thy griefs deride." 

" Earl Herbert, no ! it is not so, 
Though wild and maddening is my woe, 
In spite of pain of heart and brain, 

Oh I am truly sane ; 
As surely as my husband's doomed, 
Thy headless trunk will be entombed — 
Thine ! and one of greater fame, 
More good, more brave — of Herbert name : 
I've said — and thou wilt briefly see — 
Now earl, farewell, thou'lt think of me." 

" Stay ! — thy dark pythonic speech, 
I shame to say't! my heart doth reach, — 
Thy strange and spirit-wounding look, 
Is like an awful mystic book, 
Where characters of fate appear, 
Deciphered but by gifted seer — 
How groundest thou thy prophecy ? 
Relate ! — I may be kind to thee — 



THE WIFE OF AP ROBIN. 2& 

Now as thou hope'st thy husband's life. 
As hope'st to be a blessed wife, 
Speak sooth ! or mercy's smile is lost, 
Tell me woman, what thou know'st." 

il First, I know," the dame returns, 

u Those wily hopes my bosom spurns ! 

Mercy never dwelt with thee, 6 

Nor lives credulity with me, 

But thus it was — my husband's fate 

Hung on my heart a deadly weight, 

A fever hot calcined my brain, 

The acrid barrenness of pain, 

Like breathings of the torrid sphere, 

That withers, scorches, far and near,— 

No sweet thought sprung with healing tongue,. 

Bat dry and dusty sorrow clung — 

Relaxed in frame, without an aim. 

With every nerve unstrung, 
Numbed in idiotcy of mood, 
I paced the war-field's solitude, 
And there, far spread I marked the dead, 
Slain men and horses lowly laid, 
Gored and gashed with many a wound. 
In various postures on the ground, 
Retaining still the grin of pain, 
Distorting them the hour slain ; — 
I passed each form of horror by, 
With a wondering wildered eye, 
Till saw I two, whose youth I nursed, — 
When loud my shriek of anguish burst ; 
The birds that prey upon the dead, 
Startled, spread their wings and fled, — 



264 THE WIFE OF AP ROBIN. 

I rubbed mine eyes, and found that true 

Was each dread object of my view — 

I prayed for tears to quench the flame 

That seared my heart — and forth they came ! 

They came — a sweet and blessed shower ! 

Fraught with gentlest healing power — 

Luxuriating in my grief, 

I blessed my God — 'twas sweet relief! 

I gathered then the corses twain, 

Of my poor boys in battle slain, 

I knelt between them on the earth, 

And thought upon their days of birth — 

I wept, till wild and scant of breath, 

Ne'er deemed I once, that such their death ! 

Oh the wild and ruinous blast ! 

Death's lurid shadow o'er them cast — 

The livid face — the blackening gore — 

Are these my sons ? — no more ! no more ! 

But oh the sorrow far more sore 

Was for him of dubious fate, 

The captived victim of thy hate, 

Dear partner of my griefs and joys. 

The father of my gallant boys ! 

Who in Conway's fortress lies, 

And who at eight to-morrow dies. 

In all the fervour of a heart 

Wild, mad, and fond, enough to part, 

To snap in twain, grief severed, 
I prayed to God to shew of thee — 
And give a sign of what would be — 

I prayed, till anguish fevered — 
At length, with o'er-wrought wasted frame, 
Supportless, spiritless, inane, 



THE WIFE OF AP ROBIN. 265 

I fell, and slumber strong came o'er me, 

Then shewed the sign I asked — the sign ! 

Oh list to what then past before me — 

The sign ! the sign ! 'tis thine, and mine, 

Oh how the vision tore me. 

I fell into a gradual trance, 

And then appeared a gathered crowd 

Around a coffin and a shroud — 

Methought there, on a scaffold laid, 

A block, with horrid axe arrayed — 

And silent men bore many a lance, 

Pole-axe, and sword, around the spot, 

Each face with doubtful meaning masked — 

c What means this horrid pomp ?' I asked — 

All were dumb — but a whisper came — 

Methought it was my husband's name— 

At length the criminal was brought, 

It was my husband's manly form, 

Late foremost in the battle storm — 

I plainly saw his severed head ! 

And shrieked, methought, and fell as dead. 

Still, still, my trance of woe went on, 
Methought I mourned him dead and gone — 
Dread battles passed before my view, 
I knew who fled, and who pursue — 
At length my eyes my heart regaled ! 
Our friends succeed, our foemen failed ! 
Another execution day 
Now passed before me as I lay, 
And those as criminals were cast, 
Who sat as judges at the last, 
2 m 



266 THE WIFE OF AP ROBIN. 

Sir Richard dread 7 , our mighty foe, ^ 

And he who stands before me now ! > 

Thou — thou Earl Herbert ! — even thou \j 

I've said — and thou wilt briefly see — 

Proud lord farewell — thou'lt think of me." 

At length came on the hour of eight, 

The brave Ap Robin met his fate, 

And forward in her greatness came 

Ap Robin's high heroic dame, 

Her apron bore his severed head ; — 

As from the horrid spot she sped, 

With mad conjugal love's regret, 

Her eye and stern Earl Herbert's met — 

She fixed him with her awful glance 

As it would every sense entrance — 

The serpent with death's awe unmixed, 

Ne'er more its trembling victim fixed — 

There was a still, dead, gazing, pause — 

And none around divined the cause — 

She shook her head and cried " alas, 

Thou see'st what yet will come to pass" — 

She pointed to the body — gashed — 

Earl Herbert's proud looks fell, abashed — 

She pointed to the gory head, 

" And who will bear thine thus ?" she said ; 

" E'en such a fate awaiteth thee, 

Stern man farewell — thou'lt think of me." 

Within his heart her words sunk deep, 

And settled there, like slimy things 

In stagnant pools, of deadly stings, 

And did like baneful minerals keep 

Rankling in its cored abode ; 

The springs of life seemed to corrode ; 



THE WIFE OF AP ROBIN. 267 

Of care-worn face and macilent 
His soul beneath her last words bent — 
Yes, on his soul, like Pleasure's knell, 
They fell as numbing bonds — a spell — - 
Though outwardly he feigned to scoff, 
A spell he never could shake off : 
It checked him in the day of fight — 
It curbed him in his hour of might — 
Cool caution o'er his nature grew, 
And Valour's dauntless bearing flew, 
Fear, that long he laughed at — Fear ! 
Assailed him now in front and rear — 
Fear cribbed him in her niggard scope 
And weakened arm, and heart, and hope : 
But 'spite of every cautious aim 
The day of retribution came — 
It came in storm, it came in ire, 
It came like sky-floods raining fire, 
Sweeping from the battle plain 
The bravest of the Yorkist train ; 
The conquering Lancastarians led 
By him to whom the regal head 
Has bowed in homage for its crown, j 

Th' exalter and the crusher down — > 

King-making Warwick, in his high renown \) 
And lo, at length, in Danesmoor field 
The cruel bloody Herberts yield, s 
Captived by their mightiest foe, — 
Stern Pembroke's haughty crest is low ; 
And to pass then briefly came 
The dread prediction, (once deemed fiction,) 
Of wronged Ap Robin's dame. 



268 



SIR RHYS AP THOMAS. 



No cheating 'tis, to cheat the cheater ; 
No treason to betray the traitor. 

Anon, from the Welsh. 



King Richard III. suspecting the intention of Rhys ap Thomas, 
wrote to demand hostages for his fidelity, and received in reply a 
letter full of loyal expressions, and a protestation that whoever should 
dare to land in that part of Wales, as an enemy to his highness, should 
make his entrance over his body, therefore, to satisfy his conscience 
he laid on the ground that the earl of Richmond might step over him. 



Mistrust and fear, in front and rear, 

Embittered savage Richard's hours, 
To him came tales, a 'Squire of Wales, 

Held on the coast his powers : 
But none could tell, to aid, or hurl 
Destruction swift on Richmond's earl. 
Thus wrote the king to gallant Rhys, 
" Art thou a foeman to my peace, 

Or art thou 'Squire my friend ? 
I know thou hast a mighty host, 
Hovering on the Cambrian coast, 

And dubious is thy end, 
So send me hostages with speed, 
If thou'rt untrue, thou'lt deeply rue, 

If faithful, great thy meed." 



SIR RHYS AP THOMAS. 269 

Thus Rhys, the wily 'Squire, replied, 
With cunning speech to over-reach 

The tyrant in his pride ; — 
66 'Tis true I hold a mighty host, 
For aye alert upon the coast, 
But 'tis to crush my country's foe, 
With a great and sudden blow ; 
If ever here he dare appear, 

To him be direst woe ! 
If e'er he tread fair Cambria's grass, 
lie first shall o'er my body pass." 



At length young Harry crossed the seas, 
With dragon banner in the breeze, 
Rhys and all his Cambrian power, 
Gayly hail and bless the hour ; — 
As warmly grasped he Richmond's hand, 
He cried, " ere treads my liege the land, 
(To. make my mockery complete, 
As I did with the tyrant treat,) 
Ere press your feet our British grass, 
You first shall o'er my body pass :" 
When down he laid him on the sand, 
And o'er him passed the Earl to land. 



Then came the day of Bosworth field, 
The dauntless form of Rhys was steeled, 

Armed cap-a-pee for fight, 
Long sought he Richard through each force, 
At length he meets him horse to horse, 

And cries " God save the right I" 
The tyrant, thirsting for his gore, 
Rushed on him like a foaming boar, 



270 SIR RHYS AP THOMAS. 

But bootless all his might ; 
He cursing, fell, — King Henry's hail 
Was, " rise Sir Rhys a knight !" 



Tradition reports that Rhys slew Richard with his own hand, but 
however this may be, the number and the fine deposition of his troops 
contributed greatly to Richmond's success; he was knighted on the 
field of battle, and soon after made governor of Wales. He afterwards 
distinguished himself for his loyalty and valour, against Simuel and 
Perkin Warbeek, and was made a knight of the Garter ; the honour 
of an earldom he refused. His memoirs relate, that he was the third 
son of Thomas ap Griffith, a person of birth and fortune in South Wales, 
and born at Abermarles, in the 1.5th century. His elder brother dying, 
he became heir to the family estate, and went to reside for some time, 
with his father at the court of Burgandy. After his return he put an 
end to a deadly feud which had long subsisted between his family and 
that of Count Henry, by marrying the heiress of that house, by which 
he became one of the most opulent subjects in the realm, and main- 
tained a splendid hospitality suitable to his great wealth; one of his 
residences was Abermarles, in the county of Carmarthen, in its time 
a princely mansion, and called by Leland"afair house of old Sir Rees's." 
Newcastle Emlyn, in the same county (appertaineth to the Princes of 
Dynevwr, and celebrated in Cambro-British history) was also his pro- 
perty and frequent residence. After attending King Henry VIII. 
into France, he returned to his castle of Carew, in Pembrokeshire, 
where he passed his time chiefly in promoting military exercises and 
sports, and died in 1527, aged 76, he was buried in the Priory Church 
of Carmarthen. He was the ancestor of the present noble family of 
Dynevor. The effigy of Sir Rhys ap Thomas and his lady, in Carmarthen 
chancel, removed from the Priory at the dissolution of the Monastries, 
affords a handsome specimen of the costume in Henry VII. reign; 
his hair is flowing in ringlets over his shoulders, he has a ringed iron 
collar round his neck, a breast-plate, on which are painted his arms, 
a sword and dagger, and his legs and arms completely cased in armour ; 
over all this he has a mantle, with a collar falling back, the arms in a 
garter, painted on his left shoulder. — His lady's cap is almost square, 
a neck-lace, a fucker above her gown, which is a short one. shewing 
the petticoat below, and tightened round the waist by a gold cord tied 
in the centre, the two ends of which reach below the knees, and are 
ended by tossels. Over all she wears a long flowing robe with large 
sleeves. This sepulchral mass is erroneously pointed out to strangers 
as the monument of Rhys ap Tewdwr. 



271 



DAVID LLOYD AP LLEWELYN 



OR, THE 



WISDOM OF WOMAN. 



The Earl of Richmond, in his march from Milford, is said fo have 
lodged one night with Davydd Lhvyd ap Llewelyn, lord of Mathavarn, 
an illustrious Poet, herald, and reputed prophet, much venerated in 
that part of the country, whom he had known familiarly in his child- 
hood; the earl, whether in real anxiety for the issue of this hazardous 
enterprize, or in the spirit of gaiety with his host, is uncertain, requested 
his private opinion, whether or not he should be successful. The 
seer cautiously replied, that a question of such importance could not 
be immediately answered, and that he would give his reply in the 
morning. He was greatly perplexed by the question, and his wife 
observed an unusual and inexplicable gravity in his manner during 
the remainder of the evening; she enquired into the cause, on learn- 
ning which, she exclaimed with much astonishment, " How can you 
possibly have any difficulty about your answer? tell him that the issue 
of his enterprize will be most successful and glorious; if your pre- 
diction is verified you will receive honours and rewards ; but if it 
fails, depend upon it, he will never come here to reproach you." 
Hence we have the Welsh proverb, Cyngor gwraig heb ei ofyn ; i.e. 
A wife's advice without asking it. 



The prophet and bard David Lloyd ap Llewelyn, 
Futurity scanned, piped, and thrummed the high telyn, 
When gayly inspired with rich mead or ale, 
Well chaunted the strain, and related the tale ; 



272 DAVID LLOYD AP LLEWELYN. 

All true were his prophecies, loud was his laugh, 
His verses were warm as the liquor he'd quaff; 
At Jasper of Pembroke's munificent board, 
Loud was his praise of that Cambrian lord ! 
And what was a circumstance strange as could be, 
His wife was as clever and wise as he. 

Young Harry of Richmond the courteous and brave, 
For Richard the tyrant has bared the proud glaive ; — 
Young Harry of Richmond has crossed o'er the seas, 
With dread host of war, and green flag* in the breeze! — 
Young Harry of Richmond with trumpet and drum, 
To battle Plantagenet Richard is come ! 
And the gay son of Tudor to David applied, 
" Say bard, may success crown the dragon's high pride ? 
Or must the thick death-gore his free breathing clog, 
And leave him a prey to the fierce Saxon hog ? 
Shall Cymru's 'reft sons hail a prince of their own ? 
Shall Harry of Richmond possess England's throne ? 
Or is it some other the bards have foretold, 
Will give this proud Island her era of gold ?" 

Alarmed for his credit, with caution the seer, 
Evadingly answered — his bold wife was near — 
"Why tell him," — cried Gwenny, "with confident 

swell, 
The dragon shall flourish, and all will be well, 
His head shall be circled in Britain's bright crown, 
And his name, in Fame's annals, arrayed with renown: — 
If verified, thou shalt be first famed of Wales, 
And he ne'er to reproach thee can come if he fails /" 

* One of the standards of the earl of Richmond was green with 
three dragons. 



DAVID LLOYD AP LLEWELYN. 273 

He said, and it happened! — grim crooked Richard 

fell; — 
David leaped with delight at his funeral knell : 
And Gwenny, like lightning, ran o'er vale and hill. 
To trumpet her husband's fatidical skill, 
Declaring, in secret^ how much was her own, 
That she and her mate gave the young Earl the throne, 
Oh bright shines the day when the Briton succeeds ! 
And bounteous to David was King Harry's deeds ; 
A lordship and castle, with brave wide domain, 
Was blessed David Lloyd ap Llewelyn's fair gain; — 
A sword at his side, and a star on his breast, 
While " The Wisdom of Woman /" 'twas mottoed his 

crest. 



The pretended prophecies of David Lloyd ap Llewelyn, have been 
made the subject of ridicule by many of his countrymen, but by one it 
is asserted that " his dark, mysterious, pythonic prophecies, that a 
chieftain of Wales should liberate the nation from Saxon bondage, so 
wrought upon the. valour of his countrymen, that many thousands 
enlisted under the banner of Sir Rhys ap Thomas, who received 
Richmond at Milford." 



NOTES. 



NOTES TO THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 



Note 1. Page 2. 

The three notorious Drunkards of the Isle of Britain. 

The three abandoned drunkards of the Isle of Britain, were, first, 
drunken Geraint, king of Siluria, who in the paroxysm of a fit of intox- 
ication set fire to the standing corn ; the conflagration in consequence 
of which rash act spread so violently, that all the corn of the country, 
to an immense distance, was totally consumed, and a destructive fa- 
mine ensued. The second was Vortigern, surnamed the wry-mouthed, 
who when intoxicated gave Horsa, the Saxon chief, the Isle of Thanetj 
for permission to have an illicit connexion with his daughter Rowena ; 
and further promised, that her son, the fruit of that amour, should suc- 
ceed to the crown of England : which proved productive of treachery, 
and a sanguinary massacre of a prodigious number of the chieftains of 
the Cambrian race. The third was drunken Seithenyn, the son of 
Seithyn Saidi, king of Dimetia; who, when in a state of intoxication, 
suffered the sea (by neglecting to attend to the sluices,) to overflow 
the Lowland Hundred (or Cantre'r Gwaelod) where lands and habita- 
tions the most beautiful in all Wales, excepting only Caerlleon on Usk, 
to the number of sixteen cities and towns, were in a short period in- 
undated and ruined. The Lowland Hundred was the property of 
Gwyddno, surnamed longshanks, king of Cceredigiawn (or Cardigan- 
shire.) This event happened in the reign of Emrys Wledig (or the 
illustrious). The inhabitants who escaped from that inundation landed 
in Ardudwy, a part of Carnarvonshire, and ascended the mountains of 
Snowdon, which had never been inhabited before that period. 



278 NOTES TO THE LAND 

Note 2. Page 2. 
__4 moral Ode, a Poem on the inundation of Cantrev y Gwaelod, fyc, 
TRANSLATION. 
THE SORROW OF GWYDDNO. 

Though I love the beach, I will hate the sea, 
Whose wave o'erwhelras the stepping-stone 
Of the brave, the mighty, the generous champion ! 
The alighting stone of bards be it a ready help in need. 
The fame of the feast-server caused a miserable fate, 
Till the day of doom its effect will remain. 

Though I love the beach, I will hate the wave. 

The wave has woefully tyrannized to wound my breast, 

I shall complain while I live on account of this : 

It is a cheering work to cleanse with wine my breast ; 

Tho' the stomach may be full, the heart is not warmed, 

And festivity will yield no consolation for this. 

He has repented him of his errands : 
The chatterer has hastened far for death ; 
Bold and cruel the exchange that befel us two, 
To tell how God has turned the leaves. 
Mechyd, they will uncover from thy arrival ; 
I shall not receive thee with much uncovering, 
On my part I have sold my steed on thy account. 

The reward of festivity to gratify the taste, 

For the sweet dainties, 

From thy circle thy anger hath been to me a foe. 

TRANSLATION. 

ON THE INUNDATION OF CANTREV Y GWAELOD, 

Come forth, Seithenyn ! and behold 
Waste is the land of heroes bold : 
Lo ! bursting o'er his wonted shores, 
On Gwyddno's plains wild Ocean roars. 

Accursed Morfin ever be, 
Who, after wine 5 let in the sea I 
Let deep Gwenestr's raging flood 
O'erwhelm the plains where Gwyddno stood. 



BENEATH THE SEA. 279 

Accursed Machtaith, whose fatal spleen 
When hush'd the battle's clanging din, 
Loos'd deep Gwenestr's gloomy wave 
O'er Gwyddno's fertile plains to rave. 

Hark ! from the brow of hoary Caer, 
Mererid's wailiugs fill the air ! 
Or soon, or late, Fate's vengeful blow 
Still lays the proud oppressor low. 

From Caer's high brow, smit by despair, 
Mererid lifts his voice in prayer ; 
Check'd is oppression's towering pride 
That whilom heaven itself defied. 

From Gwinau comes Mererid's moan, 
The chair of Cedawl is o'erthrown : 
Where bloated excess ruled the scene, 
Gaunt, griping penury is seen. 

Mererid's groans oppress my soul ; 
Mirth, beauty, or the sparkling bowl; 
Can to me nought of joy bestow, 
God lays the proud oppressor low* 

Dismal this night Mererid's cry 
Compels me from my couch to fly. 
Checked is oppression's haughty stride, 
Destruction overwhelms his pride. 



TRANSLATION. 

THE CONFERENCE BETWEEN GWYDDNO AND GWYN 
AB NUDD. 

Since it is a vain person that is thus adorned with gold, 

Near the court of Gwalloc, 

I also will appear as one possessing riches. 

Be accursed the thicket 

That pulled out his eye in his presence 

Gwalloc son of Llenoc the sovereign. 

Be there a curse to the black wood 
That pulled out his eye that was black. 
Gwalloc son of Llenoc, leader of a host. 



280 NOTES TO THE LAND 

Be there a curse to the white wood 
That pulled his eye out of his head. 
Gwalloc son of Llenoc the prince. 

Be there a curse to the green wood ' 
That pulled out the eye of my youth, 
Gwalloc son of Llenoc the honourable. 

Fierce Bull of war! when host with host 
Is in the battle's tumult lost ! 
Supreme of those who mighty are ! 
Whose look of ire no mortal dare ! 

Yet foremost of the sons of earth 
That light the hospitable hearth ; 
Soul of Hospitality ! 
Is there refuge here for me ? 

Persuasive tongue of him whose art 
Can rule with words the human heart I 
Chief of the brave ! who can assuage, 
And lull at will, thy bosom's rage : 

Say if, in this distracted hour, 
For me is refuge in thy power ? 
Here a suitor I await, 
Speak and let me know my fate. 

This boon bestow, and for thy name 
I'll weave a song of deathless fame ; 
That whereso, Chief, thou shalt appear, 
The shout of praise will glad thy ear : 

And I, fresh from the battle's field, 
Ere from my arm is dropp'd my shield, 
Will join, with feeble voice, the song 
That would thy valiant deeds prolong. 

I greet thee, gallant youth ! and yield. 
Warrior, whose protecting shield 
Guards the weak in troubled hour 
From murder's blow, from rapine's power. 

Thy name, thy origin declare. 
Lover of Creirddillad fair 
Daughter of Lludd of hoary brow, 
Gwyn, son of Nudd, am I ; and thou 



BENEATH THE SEA. ^81 

Hast oft beheld my round-hoof d steed 
Bear me on with frantic speed 
Through the battle's tide of blood. — 
Gwyn, I know thee, brave and good ; 

Gwyddno Garanhir am I ; 
Vainly would I shun thine eye. 
Though gloomy sadness shades thy brow, 
In silence do not leave me now : 

For cold and silent is my home, 
And press'd with sorrow am I come ! — 
Gwyn, son of Nudd, of hosts the pride, 
To thee what boon can be denied ? 

Eagle of the rocky shore, 
For thee my lips I'll ope once more ; 
For thee, by whose resistless blow, 
A thousand warriors lie low, 

Strew'd like broken rushes round, 
Prostrate gnaw the gore-stain'd ground. 
By my carved ring with gold 
Studded round, I will unfold 

To thee the story of my woe, 
The source whence all my sorrows flow. 
I saw, where hoar Caer Mandwy shrouds 
His head among the mantling clouds, 

Slaughter stain with blood the snow, 
And ravage all the plains below. 

Gwyn, son of Nudd, the blessing of armies, 
From the toil of thy arm quicker would hosts 
Fall down than the broken rushes. 

Ystec, my dog, that is well-trained, 
And he is the best of dogs ; 
Dormarthedd, that belong'd to Maelgwyn. 

Dormarthedd with brown nose ; if thou didst look 
Upon it, then thou would'st suppose 
That he ranged with a surpent's motion. 

The place where brave Gwenddolau fell, 
Son of Ceidio, I can tell : 

2 o 



282 NOTES TO THE LAND 

When loud the boding ravens screara'd, 
Then his vital current stream'd : 

Then of mighty bards, the pride, 
Ceidio's son Gwenddolau died. 
Gwerydd's son of mighty fame, 
Bran, a host against him came : 

When the clamouring raven rose 
The hero sunk to dread repose ; 
These eyes beheld the fatal place, 
Where fell the pride of Gwerydd's race. 

I know the place where Llachau fell ; 
Who his valiant deeds can tell ? 
Arthur's son, renown'd in song, 
Oft he burst the conflict's throng, 

He heard the raven's boding cry, 
And met unaw'd his destiny. 
Where Meiric died, Carcian's son, 
Of matchless fame, to me is known ; 

Dark was the raven's wing that spread, 
When Meiric mingled with the dead. 
Where Gwalloc fell I know the place ; 
Brave issue of a noble race ! 

Lloegr's ruin, Llenoc's son, 
Bloody, bloody set thy sun. 
Where Britain's warriors lie low, 
From east to north, the spots I know. 

Low in the silent grave they sleep, 
And I am left to live and weep. 

Where Britain's warriors lie low, 
From east to south, the spots I know ; 
Mingling with their native earth ; 
But I am left to mourn their death. 

The five first verses, and the twenty-first, twenty-second, and 
twenty-third, are very obscure ; and therefore the translation is given 
as literally as possible : the versification of the remaining verses is by 
Anthony Todd Thomson, Esq. 



BENEATH THE SEA. 



283 



Note 3. Page 5. 

Hemes Taliesin, or Taliesin y s History. 

HANES TALIESIN. 



Prifard cyffredin 
Wy fi i Elffln 
Am gwlad gynhefin 
Iw bro Gerubin 

Joannes Dewin 
Am gelwis i Merdin 
Bellach pob Brenin 
Am geilw Taliesin 

Mi a fum nawmis hayach 
Yn mol Gridwen wrach 
Mi a fum gynt Wion bach 
Taliesin ydwy bellach 

Mi a fum a gyda'm ner 
Yn y goruwchelder 
Pan gwympiod Luciffer 
I UfFern dyfnder 

My a fum yn dwyn banner 

flaen Alecsander 
Mi a wn enwau's ser 
Or gogledd hyd Awster 

Mi a fum ynghaer Bedion 

Tetragrammaton 

Mi a dygum Heon 

1 lawr glyn Ebron 

Mi a fum yn y Canon 
Pan las Absalon 
Mi fum yn y Llyd don 
Cyn geni Gwdion 

Mi a fum bedrenog 
I Eli ag Enog 
Mi a fum ar fan crog 
Mab Duw Tregarog 

Mi a fum ben ceidwod 
Ar wncuthur Twr INimrod 



Mi a fum dri chyferod 
Ynghaer Eirianrhod 

Mi a fum yn Area 
Gyda Nae ag Alpha 
Mi a welais difa 
Sodoma a Gomorra 

Mi a fum yn Aflrica 
Cyn adeilad Roma 
Mi a ddoethym yma 
At wedillion Troia 

Mi a fum gyda'm Rhea 
Yn mhreseb yr asen 
Mi a nerthais Foesin 
Trwy dwr Urdonen 

Mi a fum ar yr Wybren 
Gyda Mair Fadlen 
Mi a gefais awen 

bair Griduen 

Mi a fum fardd telyn 

1 Theon Llychlyn 
Mi a gefais newyn 
Am fab y forwyn 

Mi a fum yn y Gwynfryu 
Yn llys Cynfelyn 
Mewn Cyffa gefyn 
Undydd a blwyddyn 

Mi a fum am Logawd 
Yngwlad y Drindawd 
Ni wyddis beth yw y cnawd 
Ac cig ai pysgawd 

Mi a fum dysgawd 

Ir holl fydysawd 

Mi a fyda hyd dyd brawd 

Ar wyncb daiarawd 



284 



NOTES TO THE LAND 



Mi a fum ynghadair flin 
Uwch Caer Sidin 
A honno yn troi fydd 



Rhwng tri alfyd 
Pand rhyfedd ir byd 
Nas argenydd 



TRANSLATION. 



THE HISTORY OF TALIESIN. 



The primary domestic bard 

Am I to Elphin, 

And my original country 

Is the region of Cherubims. 

Joannes the divine 

Called me Merddin, 

At length every king 

Will call me Taliesin. 

I was full nine months 

In the womb of mother Cyridwen ; 

I was little Gwion heretofore, 

Taliesin am I now. 

I was with my Lord 

In the superior state 

When Lucifer did fall 

To the infernal deep. 

I have borne a banner 

Before Alexander : 

I know the names of the stars 

From the north to Auster. 

I have been in the circle of Gwdion 

Teiragrammaton ; 

I conducted Heon 

To the depth of Ebron vale. 

I was in Canaan 

When Absalom was slain, 

I was in the Court of Don 

Before Gwdion was born, 

I was an attendant 

On Eli and Enoc ; 

I was on the cross-devoting sentence 

Of the son of the merciful God. 

I have been chief keeper 

Of the work of Nimrod's tower 

I have been three revolutions 

In the circle of Arianrod. 

I was in the Ark 



With Noah and Alpha ; 

I beheld the destruction 

Of Sodoma and Gomorra. 

I was in Africa 

Before Rome was built, 

I am come here 

To the remnants of Troia. 

I was with my Lord 

In the manger of the she-ass ; 

I strengthened Moses 

Through the Jordan water. 

I have been in the firmament 

With Mary Magdalen ; 

I have been gifted with genius 

From the cauldron of Cyridwen 

I have been bard of the harp 

To Teon of Lochlyn ; 

I have endured hunger 

For the Son of the Virgin. 

I have been in the White Hill 

In the court of Cynfelyn 

In stocks and fetters, 

For a year and a day. 

I have had my abode 

In the kingdom of the Trinity ; 

It is not known what is my body, 

Whether flesh or fish. 

I have been an instructor 

To the whole universe ; 

I shall remain till the day of doom 

On the face of the earth. 

I have been in an agitated seat 

Above the circle of Sidin, 

And that continues revolving 

Between three elements : 

It is not a wonder to the world, 

That it reflects not a splendour ? 



BENEATH THE SEA. 285 

Note 4. Page 7. 

Privileged Harbours in Britain. 

The three privileged ports of the isle of Britain. First, the port of 
Ysgewyn in Gwent, (Newport.) Second, the port of Gwygyr in Mon, 
(Beaumaris). Third, the port of Gwyddno in Ceredigion, (overflowed 
with the whole adjacent country in the fifth century.) 

Note 5. Page 8. 

Whose name is unknown. 

For the poem here alluded to, the reader is referred to the " New 
Aberystwyth Guide," or to " Meyrick's Cardigan" where it appears in 
its original Welsh, accompanied with a translation. 

Note 6. Page 14. 

As o'er Pen-Dinas Hill I strayed. 

Pen-Dinas is a hill adjoining the town of Aberystwyth, standing 
centrally between the rivers Rheidol and Ystwyth, and overlooking 
Cardigan Bay, from which Oliver Cromwell demolished Aberystwyth 
Castle which stood beneath, and its massive ruins still remain scattered 
about the base of the only remaining tower. These enormous frag- 
ments of the once formidable fortress, give interest to, and adorn the 
pleasure walks, called the Castle Ruins, there. Embankments and 
vestiges of earlier fortifications than Cromwell's time, crown the head 
of Pen-Dinas, while cornfields and pasture ground adorn its sides, 
variegated with wild flowers. 

■"V 

Note 7. Page 22. 

As Britain's very Paradise. 

The following account of the Vale of Clwyd is transcribed from the 
pages of an English tourist. — " From hence I passed the wide ferry 
at Conway, which brought me into Denbighshire, and traversed a hilly 
country, till within eight miles of St. Asaph, one of the four Welsh 
Bishoprics, where the fertile vale of Clwyd begins, and ends in a 
marsh at Rhyddlan. This heavenly enchanting vale is twenty-six 
miles in extent, and eight miles in breadth, which for beauty and 
richness, cannot be excelled by any spot of the same magnitude in all 
Europe; however, not in this Island. It is variegated with fine 
woods, high sloping hills, velvet lawns covered with snowy flocks, 
cows, and oxen in abundance, though very small in their kind ; a num- 



286 NOTES TO THE LAND 

ber of gentlemen's seats, finely situate, with delightful prospects to 
them, and a sweet river runs through the whole length of it. 



Note 8. Page 24. 

Famed Taliesin, strangely found. 

Taliesin was a foundling, having been discovered, exposed in a 
coracle, in King Gwyddno Girhanhir's fishing wear, by his son Prince 
Elfin, who reared and protected him. He afterwards became the 
most accomplished and celebrated bard of his time, and was introduced 
by Elfin to his father's court, where he delivered Gwyddno a poem, 
giving an account of himself, entitled " Hanes Taliesin," here nserted 
in Note 3. 



Note 9. Page 39. 

Their Coracles did others reach. 

Coracles are little boats of asingular construction, peculiar to Wales, 
and generally used by fishermen on rivers: so small, that they admit 
but of a single occupant, who, being seated, will row himself with 
incredible swiftness with one hand, while with the other he manages 
his net, angle, or other fishing tackle, with admirable dexterity. They 
are of oval form, made of split rods, interwoven with twigs, and on 
the outside covered with a horse or bullock's hide, painted canvas, or 
pitched flannel. Five feet in length and three in breadth, is their usual 
measurement, sometimes larger, and so light, that coming off the water 
their owners left them on their backs, and carry them home, at which 
time they fully answer the purpose of an umbrella. These rude boats 
are specimens of the original British navigation, according to Caesar, 
who made them turn to a good account in his Spanish expedition 
against Pompey; for Caesar's bridges over the Segre being hurried 
away by the torrent, he transported his legions across it in Vessels of 
this construction, Pliny in his account of Britain, speaks of a six 
days' navigation on the open sea, with these coracles. 



Note 10. Page 40. 

Some settled on EryrVs top. 

Eryri is the Welsh name of Snowdon. The inhabitants of Cantrev y 
Gwaelod who escaped from the drowned country, landed in Ardudwy, 
a part of Caernarvonshire, and ascended the mountains of Snowdon, 
which had never been inhabited before that national calamity. 



BENEATH THE SEA. 287 

Note 11. Page 42. 

While sighed he o'er hisfioated land. 

These lines are founded on the Cardiganshire proverb or adage 
mentioned in the introduction to this Poem, 

" The sigh of Gwyddno Garanhir, 

When o'er his land rushed waves severe." 



Note 12. Page 53. 

A merry time I the bidder's rhyme. 

The following account of Welsh Biddings is from the pen of a po- 
pular Welsh Poet, and addressed to the editor of a periodical work : — 

" A Bidding is an invitation sent by a couple, about to be married, 
to their friends and neighbours, to solicit their assistance by the con- 
tribution of trifling sums of money, towards the purchase of such 
commodities as may be necessary on entering a matrimonial state. 
For all gifts of this nature there is a sort of promissory note given, by 
setting down at the bidding, the name and residence of the donor, wi.'h 
the sum he deposits: and all debts of this description are repaid on 
occasions of the like nature, and are claimable even in different cir- 
cumstances. Contributions of bread, cheese, butter, tea, sugar, &c. 
arc also sent by the neighbours and acquaintance of the young couple, 
as materials for the nuptial banquet ; which is always furnished gratis, 
(the cwrw drank afterwards is paid for.) If required in a similar case, 
these donations are remembered and returned — and not otherwise. 
The Bidding is generally, but not always, held in the evening of the 
wedding-day. A person called Bidder, in Welsh, Gwahoddwr, travels 
the neighbourhood several days before the Bidding-day to proclaim 
the intended invitation, to mention the names of those relatives of the 
young couple, whose gifts are requested to be returned to them on 
this occasion, as, also, the names of those relatives and friends, who 
publ icly acknowledge their obligation for any demonstrations of kind- 
ness and favour that may be manifested towards the young party. 
Before the commencement, or after the conclusion, of this particular 
narrative, the Bidder delivers a song or rhyme, in which an allusion 
is generally made to the dainties and good cheer of the feast. 

There is an old man in this neighbourhood, of the name of Stephen, 
employed in the vocation of Gwahoddwr, who displayed, in my hearing, 
so much comic talent and humour in the recitation of his Bidding-Song 
(which, he complained, was, by repetition, become unin'eresting to 
his auditors) as to induce me to furnish him with some kind of fresh 



288 NOTES TO THE LAND 

matter. My humble composition, adapted, in language and concep- 
tions, as far as I could make it, to common taste and capacities, this 
man now delivers in his rounds ; and I send it to you as a specimen 
of a Bidder's Song, hoping that your readers will be, in some mea- 
sure, amused by its perusal. 

I am, Sir, 

Yours truly, 

D. E. 

CAN GWAHODDWR. 

Dydd da i chwi, bobol, o'r hyriaf i'r baban, 
Mae Stephen Wahoddwr a chwi am ymddyddan ; 
Gyfeillion da mwynaidd, os felly'ch dymuniad, 
Cewch genyf fy neges yn gynes ar ganiad. 

Y mae rhyw greadur trwy'r byd yn grwydredig, 
Nis gwn i yn hollol ai glanwedd ai hyllig, 

Ag sydd i laweroedd yn gwneuthur doluriad, 
Ar bawb yn goncwerwr — a'i enw yw Cariad. 

Yr ifaingc yn awchus mae'n daro fynycha', 
A'i saeth trwy ei hasen, raewn modd truenusa' ; 
Ond weithiau a'i fwa fe ddwg yn o fuan 

dan ei lywodraeth y rhai canol-oedran. 

Weithiau mae'n taro yn lied annaturiol, 

Nes byddont yn babwyr, yn wir, yr hen bobol ; 

Mi glywais am ryw-un a gas, yn aflawen, 

Y bendro'n ei wegil yn ol pedwar-again. 

A thyma'r creadur, trwy'r byd wrth garwydro, 
A d'rawodd y ddau-ddyn wyf drostynt yn teithio, 

1 hoi eich cynhorthwy a'ch nodded i'w nerthu, 
Yn ol a gewch chwithau pan ddel hwn i'ch brathu. 

Ymdrechwch i ddala i fynu, yn ddilys, 
Bawb oil yr hen gwstwm, nid yw yn rhy gostus — 
Sef rhoddi rhyw swlltach, rai'n ol eu cyssylltu, 
Fe fydd y gwyr ifainc yn foddgar o'u meddu. 

Can' brynu rhywbethau yn nghyd, gan obeithio 
Byw yn o dawel, a'u plant yn blodeuo ; 
Dwyn bywyd mor ddewis wrth drin yr hen ddaear, 
A Brenin y Seison, neu gynt yr hen Sesar. 

Can's nid wyf fi'n meddwl mai golud a mocldion 

Sy'n gwneuthur dedwyddwch, dyweden' hwy wedon' ; 



BENEATH THE SEA. 287 

Mae gofid i'r dynion sy'n byw mewn sidanau, 
Gwir yw mai'r byd hawsaf yw byw heb ddim eisiau. 

'Roedd brenin raawr Lloeger a'i wraig yn alluog, 
A chig yn eu crochan — ond etto'n byw'n sgrechog: 
Pe cawsai y dwliaid y gaib yn eu dwylo, 
Yr wyf yn ystyried y buasai Uai 'stwrio. 

Cynnal rhyw gweril yr oe'nt am y goron, 
Ac ymladd a'u gilydd, a hyny o'r galon ; 
'Rwy'n barod i dyngu, er cymaint ein hangen, 
Nad oe'nt hwy mor ddedwydd a Stephen a Madlen.* 



Yr wyf yn attolwg ar bob un o'r teulu, 

I gofio fy neges wyf wedi fynegu,+ 

Rhag i'r gwr ifanc a'i wraig, y pryd hyny, 

Os na chan ddim digon, 'weyd mai fi fu'n diogi. 

Chwi gewch yno roeso, 'rwy'n gwybod o'r hawsaf, 
A bara chaws ddigon — onide mi ddigiaf; 
Caiff pawb ei ewyllys, dybacco, pibelli, 
A diod hoffryfedd — rwyf fi wedi ei phrofi. 

Gwel'd digrif gwmpeini wy'n garu'n rhagorol, 
Nid gwiw i ni gofio bob amser ein gofol ;£ 
Mae amser i gwyno, mae amser i gami, 
Gwir yw mai hen hanes a ddywed in' hyny. 

Cwpanau da fawrion a dynion difyrus 

I mi sy' ryw olwg o'r hen amser hwylus, 

Ac nid wyf fi'n digio, os gwaeddi wna rhyw-un, 

Yn nghornel y 'stafell,— a yfwch chwi Stephen ? 

Dydd da i chwi weiihian ; mae'n rhaid i mi deithio 
Dros fryniau, a bronydd, a gwaunydd dan gwyno ; 
Gan 'stormydd tra awchus, a chan y gwlaw uchel, 
Caf fi lawer cernod — a chwiihau'n y cornel. 

The above description applies principally to Cardiganshire, as there 
is some slight difference in other parts of Wales, but the long pole 
with ribbons flying at the end of it, which formed the Bidder's staff, 

* Magdalen, the name of the Bidder's wife. 

+ The Bidder has now told the particulars of his errand.. 

t Gofal, vulgarly pronounced gofol. 

2 p 



288 NOTES TO THE LAND 

is now discontinued almost every where. Biddings are generally kept 
up by the lower classes, but if the parties are of the richer sort, as sons 
and daughters of considerable farmers, they send by the Bidders cir- 
cular letters of invitation, in English. 

Note 13. Page 53. 

The quintain sport, the church bell chime. 

This, with many of the more noble sports, practiced at Weddings, 
in Wales, has long been discontinued. " It was a ludicrous and 
sportive way of tilting on horseback, at some mark hung on high, 
m< sreable, and turning round, which, while the riders strike at with 
1 i, unless they ride quickly off, the versatile beam strikes upon 

th shoulders." 

Dr. Watts in Verbo Quintena. 

Sir H. Spelman, from being a spectator of it says, " It is a piece of 
board fixed at one end of a turning beam, and a bag of sand at the other, 
by which means, striking at the board whirls round the bag, and often 
dismounts the rider. It is supposed to be a Roman game, and left 
in this Island ever since their time." Among the sports at the princely 
fete given by Sir Rhys ap Thomas, at Carew Castle, in Pembrokeshire, 

lintain is thus named by his biographer. " When they had dined 
they went to visit each Captaine in his quarter, where they found 
everie man in action, some wrestling, some hurling of the bar, some 
taking of the pike, some running at the quintain, every man striving 
in a friendlie emulation to performe some act or other, worthie the 
name of Souldier." 

Note 14. Page 85. 

I walked the bottom of the sea. 

This refers to the quotation from Camden, p. 632. (hat appears in 
the " Historical Authorities," which precedes this poem, where it said 
" it did not appear like the sea shore, but rather resembled a grove, 
by a miraculous metamorphosis, perhaps ever since the time of the 
deluge." 



Note 15. Page 87. 

The rocks were slimed with alga weed. 

Near St. David's and many other parts of the coast of Cardigan and 
roke, they gather in the spring a kind Alga, or sea weed of 
they make a sort of food, called in Welsh, Llafan, and in En- 



BENEATH THE SEA. 289 

glish Layer, and sometimes black butter : having washed it deal 
they lay it to sweet between two flat stones, then shred it small, and 
knead it well, like dough for bread, and afterwards wake i up into 
great balls or rolls, which some eat raw, and others fry with oatmeal 
and butter. It is accounted excellent against all distempers of the 
liver, and spleen, and some affirm that they have been relieved by it 
in the sharpest fits of the stone. 

Note 16. Page 89. 

A weak blue flame from Ocean came. 

In 1694, the prodigious phenomenon of fire, or kindled exhalation, 
which disturbed the inhabitants of the neighbourhood of Harlech, is 
both singular and extraordinary ; sixteen ricks of hay and two barns 
were burnt by a kindled exhalation, or blue weak flame proceeding - 
from the sea ; this lasted about a fortnight or three weeks, poisoning 
the grass, and firing it for the space of one mile. It is extraordinary, 
that it had no effect on the men who interposed their endeavours to 
save the ricks from destruction, even by running into it. The air and 
grass was so infected, that it occasioned a great mortality of cattle, 
horses, sheep, and goats. It appeared chiefly in stormy nights, and 
sometimes in calm evenings ; but any great noise, such as sounding of 
horns, firing of guns, &c. repelled, and often extinguished it, which 
saved much hay and corn from its baneful effects. Although its ap- 
pearance is stated to have been for three weeks, at the utmost, its 
poisonous influence on cattle extended to the alarming period of three 
years. The various conjectures that have been formed, to account 
for this kindled exhalation, seem to be very unsatisfactory ; Mr. H. 
Llwyd attributes it to locusts, that arrived here about twomontbs before, 
which being drowned in the sea, or dying of extreme cold on land, 
are supposed to have occasioned this infection ; a great number of 
them were found dead on the sea shore. The author of the Cambrian 
Directory, to whom I am indebted for part of the above information, 
concludes his remarks by referring his reader for a more accurate ac- 
count of this singular phenomenon, to the Philosophical Transactions,. 
No. 208, and likewise to the Addenda, in Camden. Something similar 
to this, both in appearance and in the effect, happened in France, in 
the year 1734. 

Note 17. Page 106. 
There have been kings as Arthur brave- 
As a being of romance, Arthur's splendour, has dazzled the world ; 
he is often recorded in the triads, which are documents of undoubted 
credit ; but neither by the poets, nor in the triads, is he in anywise 
exalted above other princes who held similar stations in the country. 

Cambrian Biography. 



290 NOTES TO THE LAND 

Note 18. Page 109. 

Our Shakspeare, Spencer, Bacon. 

There is a singular historical coincidence, highly honourable to our 
country, in the two great Poets of England, Shakspeare and Milton, 
having flourished under the only two Welsh dynasties, the former 
gracing the age of Elizabeth, and the latter that of Oliver Cromwell. 
Cromwell's detractors designate him " a Private Gentleman of Wales," 
but his claims to nobility are indisputable ; his family name of Williams, 
was changed by an intermarriage into the family of Cromwell, earl 
of Essex : notwithstanding which noble alliance, our servile time- 
serving writers, who see no merit in any but the owls, hawks, and 
peacocks of legitimacy— feign to consider that great soldier and 
legislator, as an obscure and lowly adventurer. 

Note 19. Page 111. 

Had bank more sweet than Cambrian grave. 

There; is an endearing custom, apparently of great antiquity, among 
the Welsh, of planting the graves of departed friends with wild and 
garden flowers, which they attend, weed, and decorate with an affec- 
tionate constancy, expressive of their national character, in which an 
amiable enthusiasm blends with, and gives a tone of sublimity even 
to the sorrows of a peasant. The higher classes in Wales, whom 
interest, and increasing anti-patriotism, has attached to English 
manners and habits, have discontinued this custom, but to the ardent 
and unsophisticated sons of the Cymry, it will ever be held in warm 
veneration. Notwithstanding the imputed superiority of the English 
in matters of taste, it is hoped the very popular epitaph, " Affliction 
sore, long time I bore," with a thousand of the same description, so 
prevalent on their tombs, will long remain unknown to our churchyards. 

Note 20. Page 122. 

Britahi's little Rome's in sight. 

The following extract from Fenton's Pembrokeshire throws a strong 
light on the ancient grandeur of St. David's. " When we consider 
that for some centuries it had to boast of archiepiscopal authority, 
that its possessions extended over the greatest part of Pembrokeshire, 
and that Dcw r island or Pebidiawg was entirely theirs, that the shrine 
of St. David's was frequented by crowned heads, it having been or- 
dained by the see of Rome that a pilgrimage twice to St. David'' s was 
equal to one to Rome, a commutation of extensive influence, and that 
messengers were continually employed to go about with relics and 
indulgences, not only over all the churches of the diocese, but those 



BENEATH THE SEA. 291 

of other dioceses, and particularly to North Wales, to collect con- 
tributions towards the fabric of the Cathedral ; and when in every 
will, even so low down as the time of Charles the first, there always 
occurs a bequest to the church of St. David's, such was the sanctity 
attached to it; we are justified in supposing the revenues to be 
enormous."' 



Note 21. Page 123. 

From what thou art to what thou wast. 

"A history oftbesee; (of St. David's) a history not inferior in 
interest to that of any in the kingdom, whether we pursue it through 
every eventful period of its various revolutions, from the cell of the 
anchorite to the plenitude of archiepiscopal power; whether we 
consider it as the nursery of piety and learning, as having given birth 
and education to a David and an Asser ; or whether with a melancholy 
reflection on the perishable nature of every thing human, we contrast 
its meridian splendour with the present sunset of its glory. For St. 
David's, now a Suffragan itself, once numbered seven* Suffrage ns 
within its metropolitan pale (viz.) Worcester, Hereford, Llandaff, 
Bangor, St. Asaph, Llanbadarn, and Margam, all which, as such, 
gave meeting to Austin and his associates for composing some differ- 
ences between the old and new christians. And that mitre which now 
dimly beams on the lowest step of the episcopal ladder, once held so 
high a place, and shone with such a lustre, as to attract and dazzle 
the proudest ecclesiastics. It has had the greatest number of Bishops, 
of any see in the kingdom, twenty-six of whom had not only the 
title, but the full power of Archbishops, till Samson, in the time of a 
pestilence, carried the archiepiscopal pall and its dignity to Dole, 
in Britanny. Yet his successors, to the forty-seventh, Bernard, 
though they lost the name, yet retained the power of Archbishops ; 
but Bernard after a spirited struggle for metropolitan jurisdiction, 
was obliged to submit himself to Canterbury. St. David's, in the 
list of its bishops has to boast of one saint, three lord high treasurers, 
one lord privy seal, one chancellor of Oxford, one chancellor*of 
England, and in the person of Ferrar, one greater than all — a martyr. 
St. David's, though now the meagre exuviae of the city it once was, 
conveys to us the outline of its former consequence." 

Fentori's Pembrokeshire. 



* But,Giraldus asserts, that it once had twelve Suffragans, " Sieuf 
ex antiquissimis historiis, vel ex veterum relatione fideli et assertionc 
colligitur." 

Giraldus de jure et Statu Ecc. Menev, 



&y;a NOTES TO THE LAND 

Note 22. Page 125. 

By the lettered sage of Manorbeer. 

Giraldus Cainbrensis was born at Manorbeer, Pembrokeshire, in 
the year 1146, and educated under the superintendance of his uncle, 
the bishop of St. David's. Archdeacon Davies remarks of him, " His 
writings, (divested of the legendary gloss of a superstitious age, and 
in some instances, of the irritated language of a disappointed man) 
would not have disgraced the brightest periods of Roman literature. 
The fidelity and fortitude of this man's exertions to restore its faded 
rights to his native church, are well deserving of record, although the 
jealousy and intrigues of a fearful and suspicious court debarred him 
of that promotion to which he had been deservedly appointed." On 
the death of his uncle the bishop, he was elected to that see, but King 
Henry refusing to ratify the election, another was raised to the dignity. 
So anx'ously desirous was he of becoming bishop of St. David's, that 
he refused several other sees ; and on the death of the prelate who had 
succeeded his uncle, he was again elected, but again set aside, in 
consequence of which he went three times to Rome to plead his cause, 
but in vain. His election was annulled, and he. returned to England 
in great disgust ; soon after he threw up his preferments, and in his 
retirement composed his various voluminous works. His greatest 
failing is said to have been a display of intolerable vanity. 

Note 23. Page 125. 

Vallis Rosina, that name to thee. 

" In the district of Menevia, or as some wrote it Menapia, (the 
western extremity of Pembrokeshire) stood Vallis Rosina, which 
continued to be so called till Dewi or David, the apostle of Wales 
translated the Archbishopric of Caerlleon there, from which period 
it took the name of Ty Dewi, or David's House, in Welsh, and St, 
David's, in English. The name of Vallis Rosina continued to be 
applied to a portion of the ground originally so designated, in the 
vicinity of St. David's, where, soon after the year 519 that celebrated 
church militant built a monastery for monks, and instituted rules for 
their guidance, of the most rigid austerity perhaps ever known. 
Prior to the time of St. David, Patrick, a native of Wales, afterwards 
the celebrated patron saint of Ireland, as Fenton in his history of 
Pembrokeshire expresses it, " became enamoured of the retired 
situation of the vale called Vallis Rosina, remote from all worldly 
intercourse, on the Irish sea in which the present Cathedral stands ; 
and there abiding, vowed to devote himself to the service of God, but 
by a heavenly vision was warned not to fix his heart on this obscure 
reireat, as the spot was intended for one who should not be in existence 



BENEATH THE SEA. 



90 c ? 



in less than thirty years;* and that he, St. Patrick, was reserved 
for a more glorious and active employment in a country yet a stranger 
to the word of life, which he was destined to convert to Christianity." 
Such is the legendary account of St. Patrick's angelic appointment to 
convert Ireland, which it seems, was also miraculously pointed out 
by the Hevenly instructor. After wading through much traditionary 
matter respecting the birth of St. David, Eenton observes, " By the 
best accounts, the celebrated patron Saint of Wales was born A. D. 
460, ' the same year,' to use the impressive words of an ancient author, 
* in which Britain was dismembered by the Saxons, God recompensing 
that loss by the birth of St. David, one of the greatest lights the church 
ever enjoyed, both in regard to the sanctity of his life, vigour of his 
authority, and zeal in repressing heresy, and exalting exclesiastical 
discipline.' Having received a preparatory education, he no sooner 
was promoted to the priesthood than he became a disciple of Paulinus, 
in the Isle of Wight, and after living some years profiting by his in- 
struction, returned to his native country, where, at a place not far 
off from old Menapia, called Vallis Rosina, endeared to him as well 
on account of its secluded situation as from the partiality shewn to it 
by St. Patrick, who there laid the groundwork of a religious esta- 
blishment, he founded a monastery." Capgrave remarks, " St. David 
having built a monastery near Menevia, in a place called the Rosy 
Valley, gave this strict rule, &c." In the early part of his institution 
he met with great annoyance from a heathen Regulus of that district 
named Boia, whose castle overlooked the vale. But the amiable 
inoffensiveness of the saint's life at last had so won on the pagan 
tyrant, (though legend has recourse to miracles to produce that change 
in time) that he was " almost persuaded to become a christian," and 
was clearly so far a convert as to be induced, not only to abate of 
his persecution, but to settle the vale and other lands forever on the 
monastery, a guarantee for his future favour and protection. And 
such was the high repute his sanctity had acquired, far and wide, that 
men cf the first distinction, even princes, ambitious of ranking them- 
selves among his followers, abandoned the world and its empty plea- 
sures to enjoy the calm tranquility of this holy retirement. The 
Pelagian heresy, that had been by Germanus, bishop of Auxerre, and 
Lupus, bishop of Troyes, apparently extinguished, at this time began 
to break out anew, giving occasion to collect a synod of all Wales 
at a central place appointed for that purpose in Cardiganshire, called 



* In the ancient church of Sarum, in the following collect, repeated 
anniversarily on St. David's day, this prophesy was pointed at : 
"Oh God, who by an angel didst foretel thy blessed confessor St. 
David, thirty years before he was born, grant unto us, we beseech 
thee, that celebrating his memory, we may, by his intercession, attain 
to joys everlasting." 



294 NOTES TO THE LAND 

Brevi. Paulinas, under whom David had studied, and who best knew 
the depth of his theological knowledge, and the persuasive powers of 
his tongue, recommended an invitation of him to the synod, which, 
at the entreaties of Daniel and Dubricius, who had been commissioned 
to wait on him for that purpose, he cheerfully accepted. Being en- 
joined to preach, such was the force of his eloquence that the heresy 
was confuted and repressed, and by the general acclamation of the 
clergy and the people, on the resignation of Dubricius, he was exalted 
to the metropolitan see of Caerlleon ; accepting it on no other con- 
dition than that the see should be removed to St. David's. A trans- 
lation approved of by his uncle King Arthur, and the whole synod, 
then not dissolved." 

Fenton's Pembrokeshire. 



Note 24. Page 127. 

Thy promontories , thy sunken rocks. 

The promontory called St. David's Head, is a scene wild and se- 
cluded as it is possible to conceive, open to an ocean more turbulent 
from the confluence of islands and sunken rocks, occasioning some of 
the fiercest currents in the known world. Cam Lludw, so called pro- 
bably from the frequent sacrificial fires, or fires of alarm, kindled on 
its summit, presents its sublime front at the entrance of this desolate 
region. 

Note 25. Page 128. 

The Peregrine, once pride of kings. 

There is a very good breed in this county (Pembroke) of that kind 
of falcon they call Peregrine, which name bespeaks them to be no 
indigenee, but foreigners, at first lighting here by some casualty. King 
Henry the Second passing hence into Ireland, cast off a Norway gos- 
hawk at one of these, but the goshawk, taken at the source by the 
falcon, soon fell down at the king's feet, which performance in this 
ramage, made him yearly afterwards send hither for eyesses. These 
hawk's aeries, (not so called from their building in the air, but from 
the French word aire, an egg,) are many in the rocks of this shire. 

Fuller's Worthies. 

Note 26. Page 128. 

And cover Ramsey's isle of rocks. 

Near St. David's Head stands Ramsey Island, which on the east 
shoots out in a high promontory, but on the west is level and fruitful, 



BENEATH THE SEA. 297 

and is said to have been inhabited by so many saints, that no less than 
twenty thousand are said in ancient histories to lie interred there. 

Anonymous. 

Ramsey Island is all high ground, but at the two extremities of it 
rise two mountains of great height, giving it a very grand and roman- 
tic appearance ; whereas Caldy, and other islands off Milford, are 
level and tame, or with very little variety of surface. From the cove 
where we moored our boat, we ascended by a flight of irregular rocky 
steps, and afterwards with cautious footing over a length of glassy 
slope to the plain, then walked across the narrowest part of the island 
between the two mountains, to a place called the Organ, on account 
of the different, and, if X may be allowed the expression, musically 
discordant notes of the birds frequenting these cliffs, some portions of 
which are tremendously high, and in many places with beetling brows 
overhanging their base. Saw here two falcons of that breed this island 
has been so celebrated for, who being disturbed, had deserted their 
nest, yet often dropped on the wing to flutter round it, testifying their 
fierceness and parental anxiety by most horrible screams. 

We stayed not long here, but walked through deep heath to the 
north side of the largest mountain, to a still more curious place than 
that we left, called the Choir, an amphitheatre of rocks, precipitous 
and of stupendous height; from whose ledges, thickly tenanted by 
birds of various kinds, forming a most singular concert ; at the firing 
of a gun hundreds flew off, succeeded by fresh hundreds in uninter- 
rupted succession, whilst the sea beneath was covered with other hun- 
dreds darkening its surface. — On these rocks (Ramsey Isle, the Bishop 
and his Clerks, &c.) an infinite number of sea birds breed, whose eggs 
are so thickly deposited all over the surface of them, that if one egg 
on the summit be stirred in its irregular rotation, it is known to carry 
hundreds with it. Though the birds are perpetually hovering round 
the rock, yet no regular incubation is performed, and the eggs are 
chiefly hatched by the sun, here felt, at the season of their breeding, 
in an almost tropical degree. The eggs are very large in proportion 
to the birds they belong to, all beautifully marked, and endlessly 
varying. They are often eaten, and by some esteemed a luxury ; but 
they are now principally taken to be sent to Bristol for the purpose 
of fining wines. 

Fenton's Pembrokeshire. 

Thither yearly resort, about the beginning of April, such flocks of 
birds of several sorts, as appear incredible to those who have not seen 
them; they come to these rocks (Ramsey Isle, the Bishop and his 
Clerks, &c.) in the night time, and leave them also in the night time ; 
for in the evening the rocks shall be covered with them, and the next 
morning not a bird is to be seen. In the same manner, not a single 

2 Q 



298 NOTES TO THE LAND 

bird shall appear in the evening, and the next morning the rocks 
shall be covered with them. The also make a visit about Christmas, 
staying a week or longer, and then take their leave till breeding time. 
The Eligug is the same bird which they call in Cornwall a Kiddaw, 
and in Yorkshire a Skout. The Razor-bill is the Merre of Cornwall. 
The Puffin is the Arctic duck of Clusius, and the Harry-bird the Shire- 
water of Sir Thomas Brown. 

Anonymous. 

Ramsey is an island of considerable extent, with a great deal of 
good arable and pasture land, and abundantly supplied with fresh 
water. Its broadest part is about a mile over, and its mean length 
three miles. It is reported to contain nine ploughlands. The rabbits 
which were formerly so numerous as to pay the rent of the place, are 
now almost extinct, the rats having overpowered them ; and there are 
but few puffins to what I recollect. The Bishop and his Clerks are 
appurtenant to Ramsey. Sheep are fed on three of them : to that named 
Carreg Rhosson, a former tenant of Ramsey used every summer to 
make a very profitable voyage, for the purpose of taking several 
dozen puffins, from whose breasts and backs, being the only parts 
they stripped of the feathers, they filled an immense sack with a soft 
plumage not inferior to eiderdown, 

Fenton's Pembrokeshire. 

After describing Ramsey Island and the coast of St. David's gene- 
rally, Fenton says, " An account of the most principal of the other 
insulated rocks, called the Bishop and his Clerks, I shall beg leave 
to give in the very quaint language of the celebrated antiquary George 
Owen; thought quaint, yet very forcibly expressed, and justly 
characteristic, not without a most satirical application. ' A sea- 
borde of this Island, Ramsey, rangeth in order the Bishop and his 
Clerkes, being seaven in number, alwaies seen at low water, who 
are not without some smalle quiristers, who shewe not themselves 
but at spring tydes and calme seas. The cheefest is called of the 
inhabitants the Bishop's Rock, or the Great Bishop, another, Carreg 
y Rosson, the third Divighe, the fourth Emskyr, and of the rest I have 
not yet learned their names, if they have any. These rockes are 
accounted sore daungers to those that seek Milford coming from the 
South West Seas, and are to the headland of St. David's what the 
sterlinges, commonly cleped Silly, to the land's ende of England; 
and if the better skill guide not the passengers the proverb may be 
fulfilled, The Bishop and these his Clerkes preache deadly doctrine 
to their winter audience, such poor sea-faring men as are forcyd 
thether by tempest, onelie in one thing they are to be commended, 
they keepe residence better than the rest of the canons of that see are 
wont to do.'' " 



BENEATH THE SEA. 299 

" The deadly doctrine," here alluded to, was sadly verified on the 
22nd of October 1707, when the celebrated admiral Sir Cloudesley 
Shovel was returning from the siege of Toulon. His ship, the Asso- 
ciation, struck on the " Bishop and his Clerks," and was instantly 
wrecked; the admiral and all his crew, amounting to nine hundred 
men perished in the ocean. This gallant sea officer's body being 
thrown ashore on one of the Scilly islands, was stripped by some 
fishermen, and buried ia the sand, but it was afterwards taken up 
and interred with great pomp and solemnity in Westminster Abbey. 



Note 27. Page 133. 

The Saxon, Norman, and the Dane. 

In Brown Willis, and in the Annales Menevenses, it is stated that 
the church was pilfered five or six times, and that Morgenu the 
bishop was slain in the year 1000, and Abraham, another bishop, 
about seventy years afterwards ; both these murders were committed 
by the Danes. In the year 812, when Lendivord was archbishop of 
St. David's, the church was burnt by the West Saxons. Vide Annales 
Menevenses, in Wharton's Anglia Sacra, which are said to be written 
by a canon of St. David's. 



Note 28. Page 133. 

" Oh infamy's worst tainted shame, 
For aye on Barlow'' s scoundrel name." 

The intriguing, lucre-hunting spirit, the base and sycophantic tone, 
as well as the utter disregard of truth, discoverable in this worthless 
prelate's letter to Cromwell, to induce him to use his influence with 
King Henry VIII. for the translation of the see to Carmarthen, for 
his own convenience, together with the stigma he has endeavoured to 
attach to the Welsh name, may justify the most boundless indignation 
and hatred of his name. The last blaze of the splendour of St. David's 
was by him fairly extinguished ; he stripped the palace of St. David's, 
and the castle of Llewhaden, of its leaden roof, to help to portion his 
five daughters, whom, with a singular spirit of monopoly for the good 
things of the church, he married to five bishops ! — Fenton describes 
him as " committing every sort of spoil and depredation on the epis- 
copal manors, alienating the lands, and at last beggaring the see." 
" He wrote aletter to Cromwell, full of the most wicked misrepre- 
sentations." 



300 NOTES TO THE LAND BENEATH THE SEA. 

Note 29. Page 134. 
Miraculous Lecklavar's stone. 

The river Alyn, bounding the church yard of St. David's flows 
under a stone called Llechlavar, which serves as a bridge over the 
river. It is a beautiful piece of marble, polished by the feet of pas- 
sengers, ten feet in length, six in breadth, and one in thickness. 
Llechlavar signifies, in the British language, a talking stone. There 
was an ancient tradition respecting this stone, that at a time when a 
corpse was carried over it for interment, it broke forth into speech, 
and by the effort cracked in the middle, which fissure is still visible ; 
and on account of this barbarous and ancient superstition, the corpses 
are no longer brought over it. When Henry II. on his return from 
Ireland landed in the port of St. David's, and was going in procession 
to the shrine of St. David's, a Welshwoman threw herself at his feet, 
and made a complaint against the Bishop of St. David's, and it not 
being attended to, she with violent gestulations exclaimed repeatedly, 
" Avenge us this day, Llechlafar ; avenge us and the nation in this 
man;" alluding to an idle prophecy commonly attributed to Merlin, 
" That a king of England, and conqueror of Ireland, should be 
wounded by a man with a red hand, and die upon Llechlavar, on his 
return through St. David's." 

Giraldus, Book 11, Ch. I. 



301 



NOTES TO THE. NOBLE OF NATURE. 



Note 1. Page 163. 

Oh ! plenteous Isle of Anglesea, 

This island (the celebrated Mona of the Romans, and ancient seat of 
the Druids,) is blessed with a very fruitful soil, producing most sorts 
of grain, (especially wheat) in such abundance, that we commonly 
term it Mon mam Gymry, i. e. Mon, the Nursery, or Mother of Wales, 
because that principality is frequently supplied from thence in un- 
seasonable years. It is commonly reckoned as one of the counties of 
North Wales. 



Note 2. Page 165. 

The Sevi-lan-Gwy. 

Sevi-lan-Gwy, signifies " The Sives of the Wye," as this herb is seen 
to grow wild in no other part of the island than on the banks of this river 
its denomination is accounted for. The Sive, so little regarded in ihe 
present day, (being common to every peasant's garden,) I have been 
confidently assured was once the national emblem of the Welsh, and 
not the Leek, as vulgarly adopted : it has the peculiar property of 
flourishing better in a wild state than when transplanted with the 
utmost care and attention into gardens, where the growth is compara- 
tively dwarfish. The finest that I ever saw grew on a small isolated 
rock in the middle of the Wye, near Builth, apparently without any 
earth to their roots, so firmly fixed in its fissures and crevices that it 



302 NOTES TO THE 

was difficult to pull or dig them up. Although partaking of the smell 
and flavour of the Leek or Onion, the Sevi is less offensive and infi- 
nitely handsomer worn as the plume of rural festivity. 

Note 3 and 4. Page 167. 

Aberedw, Llanvair, and many a town. 

Aberedw, a village in Radnorshire , (four or five miles from Builth,) 
on the site of an ancient town, the inhabitants of which betrayed Lle- 
welyn to the English who wejre in pursuit of him, after his defeat in 
battle. 

Builth, or Llanvair-in-Builth, a town of Breconshire, on the banks 
of the Wye, parted only by that river from Radnorshire. 

Note 5. Page 169. 

Dealt death to thy genius — thy sons of song — 

Alluding to the well-known butchery of the Welsh bards by the 
command of Edward the First. 



Note 6. Page 170. 

Once crowned with the vast stately forest. 

Such was the barbarous policy of Edward the First to break the 
spirit of a brave people, not only razing their castles and murdering 
the most intelligent among them, but mutilating and disfiguring the 
whole face of the country, by cutting down the vast forests that for- 
merly covered all the mountains of Wales. 

Note 7. Page 171. 

Thy language that softness and ardour combine. 

Let those who denounce what they deem uncouth in the Welsh re- 
member, that Homer wrote in a language no less guttural nor more 
energetic ; and were the Illiad translated into Welsh, there is not an 
European tongue that would do less violence, or more accord with the 
spirit of the high sounding Greek. Lord Chesterfield has deservedly ri- 
diculed the mincing names of the Grecian heroes in French transla- 
tions, and were he aware of the similarity between the Greek and 
ancient British language, he might have nearly equal cause to lament 
the insufficiency of the English to echo the broad and full tone of the 
Greek. For a simple instance, Achilles is written in English exactly 



NOBLE OF NATURE. 303 

as in Welsh, but from a efficiency of guttural the (ch) in the former is 
pronounced like (k), while in the latter it has the very identical sound 
of the original, the guttvral being the very acid that gives a gust to the 
tone, the absence of which renders it to my ears insipid and utterly 
void of piquancy. 

Note 8. Page 172. 

The Legend of Aberedw. 

Aberedw is a small and obscure village, built on the site of an an- 
cient town, or some assert city, of that name, the only vestige of which 
is its castle in ruin, on the banks of the river Edw, near where it falls 
into the Wye, on the Radnorshire side, about four miles from Builth ; 
the natives of which, even at this day, are jocularly called " the trai- 
tors of Aberedw," in allusion to the ancient inhabitants of the town, 
who are said to have betrayed their sovereign Llewelyn, the last native 
prince of the Welsh, in the manner set forth in the Poem, into the 
hands of the English, by whom he was consequently overtaken in his 
flight, after his defeat in battle, and savagely mutilated and murdered 
by a troop of horsemen, just as he had crossed the river Irvon. Alone, 
wounded, forsaken, but still a royal fugitive, he chose ruin and death 
rather than hold a disgraced and hibutary crown, in vassalage to his 
faithless and sanguinary enemy Edward the First, 



Note 9. Page 181. 

Is the crest of her proud-crowing cocks of blue. 

The blue cocks, almost peculiar to Wales, so highly valued by 
anglers, are well known ; when they are removed from their native 
spot, their plumage soon undergoes an entire change of colour. 

Note 10. Page 182. 

Of amber-bright hue its streams. 

There is a lake in Brecknockshire called Llyn Savadhan in Welsh, 
in English Brecknockmere, which is the same that Giraldus calls Cla- 
mosum, from the terrible noise it makes, like a clap of thunder, at the 
cracking of the ice. It is two miles long, and near the same in breadth ; 
well stored with otters, tench, perches and eels, which the fishermen 
take in their coracles. Llewenny, a little river, having entered this 
lake, still retains its own yellowish colour ; and, as it were, disdaining 
a mixture, is thought to carry out no more water than what it brought 
in. There is an old tradition amongst the inhabitants, that there was 
formerly a city where the lake is, which was swallowed up by an 



304 NOTES TO THE 

earthquake ; the probability of which is certainly strengthened by the 
highways leading to it from all quarters. The general conclusion 
among antiquarians is, that no city could have been on the Llewenny 
but Loventian, which Ptolemy places in this tract, but although dili- 
gently searched for, there appear no where any remains of the name, 
ruins, or situation of it. 



Note 11. Page 182. 

The powerful hell-gallop vein. 

This characteristic name is given by miners to the potter's ore, the 
firm strata of which is found entire, breaking through every other vein 
in its course through the bowels of the earth. 

Note 12. Page 187. 

Thou ruddy-berried Ash of Britain. 

A liquor is brewed from the berries of the mountain Ash, in Wales, 
called Diod Griavol, by only crushing and putting in water : after 
standing a night it is fit for use. — The taste is like that of Perry. 

Note 13. Page 195. 

Lew Chew. 

The subject of this little Poem is gathered from that portion of 
" M'Leod's voyage of the Alceste," which relates to the Island of 
Lew Chew, than which a more pleasing narrative never issued from 
the pen of the traveller, as the few passages here transcribed will 
testify. " The Island of Lew Chew is about sixty miles long and 
twenty broad, it is the principal of a group of thirty-six Islands 
(generally termed Lucayos in the charts) of which this is the principal 
and the seat of government. They all belong to the same monarch. 
The Island of Lew Chew is situated in the happiest climate of the 
globe. — Refreshed by the sea-breezes, which, from its geographical 
position, blow over it at every period of the year. It is free from 
the extremes of heat and cold, which oppress many other countries ; 
whilst from the general configuration of the land, being more adapted 
to the production of rivers and streams, than of bogs and marshes, one 
great source of disease in the warmer climates, has no existence. 
The verdant lawns and romantic scenery of Tinian and Juan Fernan- 
dez so well described in Anson's Voyage, are here displayed in 
higher perfection, and on a much more magnificent scale ; for culti- 
vation is added to the most enchanting beauties of nature. From a 
commanding height above the ships, the view is in all directions pic- 



NOBLE OF NATtJRE. 305 

iuresque and delightful. On one hand are seen the distant islands, 
rising from a wide expanse of ocean, whilst the clearness of the 
weather enables the eye to trace all the coral reefs which protect the 
anchorage immediately below. To the South is the city of Nafco, 
the vessels at anchor in the harbour, with their streamers flying; and 
in the intermediate space appear numerous hamlets, scattered about 
on the banks of the rivers, which meander in the valley beneath ; the 
eye being in every direction, charmed by the varied hues of the lux- 
uriant foliage around their habitations. Turning to the East, the 
houses of Kintching, the capital city, built in their peculiar style, are 
observed here and there, opening from among the lofty trees which 
surround and shade them, rising one above another, in gentle ascent, 
to the summit of a hill, which is crowned by the king's palace; the 
intervening grounds between Napafoo and Kintching, a distance of 
some miles, being ornamented by a continuation of villas and country 
houses. To the North, as far as the eye can reach, the higher land 
is covered with extensive forests. At a shortest distance from this 
eminence, the traveller is led by a footpath to what seems only a 
little wood ; on entering which, under an archway formed by the 
intermingling branches of the opposite trees, he passes along a ser- 
pentine labyrinth, every here and there intersected by others. Not 
far from each other, on either side of these walks, small wicker doors 
are observed, on opening any of Which, he is surprised by the appear- 
ance of a court yard and house, with the children, and all the usual 
cottage train, generally gamboling about; so that whilst a man 
fancies himself in some lonely and sequestered retreat, he is, in fact, 
in the middle of a populous, but. invisible village. If M'Leod's des- 
criptions of the country are singularly fascinating, those of the 
inhabitants are even more so : a more benevolent or amiable people 
it seems, was never found among the human race. The most spirited 
liberality, a delicacy of feeling, and a most refined urbanity, distin- 
guished the whole of their intercourse with our countrymen. 

Note 14. Page 196. 

Where the foliage of Asia with Europe'' s combine. 

Mr. M'Leod remarks, "Nature has been bountiful in all her gifts 
to Lew Chew ; for such is the felicity of its soil and climate, that pro- 
ductions of the vegetable kingdom, very distinct in their nature, and 
generally found in regions far distant from each other, grow here, 
side by side. It is not merely, as might be expected, the country of 
the orange and the lime, but the banyan of India and the Norwegian 
fir, the tea-plant and sugar-cane, all flourish together. In addition 
to many good qualities, not often found combined, this Island can 
also boast its rivers and secure harbours ; and last, though not least, 
a worthy, a friendly, and a happy race of people. 

2 R 



306 NOTES TO THE NOBLE OF NATURE. 

Note 15. Page 197. 

Where the flower -tree' s blossom grows scarlet or pale. 

On the Island of Lew Chew, says Mr. M'Leod, is found a remark- 
able production, about size of a cherry tree, bearing flowers, which, 
alternately, on the same day, assume the tint of the rose or lily, as 
they are exposed to the sunshine or the shade. The bark of this tree 
is of a dark green, and the flowers bear resemblance to our common 
roses. Some of our party, whose powers of vision were strong, (as- 
sisted by vigorous imaginations) fancied that, by attentive watching, 
the change of hue from white to red, under the influence of the solar 
ray, was actually perceptible to the eye : that, hoewever they altered 
their colour in the course of a few hours, was very obvious. 

Note 16. Page 197. 
Here man and his consort are mild and humane. 

The humanity of the islanders is exemplary. It does not appear 
that they possess fire arms ; and when they saw the effect of our fowl- 
ing pieces, they begged that our officers would not kill their birds, 
which they were always glad to see flying about their houses ; to this they 
added, that if we wanted the birds to eat, they would send each day 
an additional number of fowls in their stead. 



307 



NOTES TO THE MISCELLANEOUS. 



Note 1. Page 210. 
Huge floating bulwarks on the sea. 

The last advice of St. Germain to the Britons, previous to his leaving 
the island, after having quieted the religious discord, and repelled the 
foreign enemy, was to make them sensible of the necessity of establish- 
ing a naval force ; well knowing that no security could be depended 
on, without such a measure. 

An account of the origin of the Pelagian heresy, which caused so 
much trouble in Britain, and forms so conspicuous a feature in the his- 
tory of the church, may not be uninteresting. The departure of the 
Romans from this island, again brought persecution on the christian 
church. The devastation occasioned by the incursions of the Scots and 
Picts, and the contempt of Christianity by the pagan Saxons, all con- 
tributed to this effect. During this period of confusion, a new he- 
resy had taken root, and made considerable advances in the British 
church. One Morgan, a native of Wales, who had been educated in 
the monastery of Bangor, about the middle of the fourth century, as- 
sumed the name of Pelagius, a translation of his own into the Greek 
language. The particular tenets which he held were derived from the 
druidical or bardic theology, and blended with those of the scriptures. 
The following account of them is given by Sigebertus : " In Britanny , 
Pelagius endeavoured to defile the church of Christ with his execrable 
doctrines ; teaching that man may be saved by his merits, without 
grace ; that every one is directed by his own natural free will to the 
attaining of justice ; that infants c e born without original sin, being 
as innocent as Adam was before his transgression ; that they are bap- 
tized, not to the end that they should be freefromsin, but that they may, 
by adoption, be admitted into the kingdom of God: and though they 
were not baptized, yet they should enjoy an eternal and happy life, 
though excluded the kingdom." — Cressy,p. 164. A conference was 



IGS 



NOTES TO THE 



held between the Pelagians and the established clergy, headed by St. 
Germain and Bishop Lupus, at Verulamium, when these learned pre- 
lates are said to have so effectually maintained their cause, that many of 
the new sectaries were brought back to the church. But it seems the 
heresy was only stifled for a short time, to blaze again with greater 
vigour ; as in the year 447 St. Germain was again sent for, and on his 
arrival, finding he could not conquer the evil by mildness, he put in 
force the edict of Valentinian, which had ordained the penalty of ba- 
nishment to heretics who could not be reclaimed. But the church 
militant by whose industry and zeal the Pelagian heresy was ultimate- 
ly eradicated, was Dewi 5 or St. David, who flourished in the fifth cen- 
tury, who was thence, and for his military services against the Saxons, 
considered the patron saint of Wales. 



Note 2. Page 221. 

A British maiden thus departs all custom. 

Ilil !a was the niece of Edwine, king of Northumberland, educated 
by Pauline and Aedan. She publicly opposed Wilfride, Gilbert, 
and other superstitious Saxon monks, as to such trifles of bigotry in 
religion ; ailedging out of Polycrates, the fact of Irenaeus, who with- 
stood Victor, bishop of Rome, upon the same account ; and the custom 
of the churches of Asia observed by St. John the evangelist, Philip 
the apostle, Polycarpus and Melito ; and likewise observed in Bri- 
tain by Joseph of Arimathea, who first preached the Gospel here. 

Note 3. Page 222. 

With us of Britain, from the Roman mode. 

The Britons did differ with the church of Rome in the celebration of 
this feast; and the difference was this. The church of Rome, accord-* 
ing to the order of the council of Nice, always observing Easier-day 
the next Sunday after the 14th day of the moon ; so that it never hap- 
pened upon the 14th day itself, nor passed the 21st. The Britons, on 
the other hand, celebrated their Easter upon the 14th, and so forward 
to the 20th, which occasioned this difference, that the Sunday observed 
as Easter-day with the Britons, was but Palm Sunday with the Saxons. 
A learned and pious man of those days named Elbodius, endeavoured 
in Wales to rec'ify this error, and to reduce it to the Roman calculation, 
which the Saxons always observed. 

Note 4. Page 256. 

Her love for Owen Tudor. 

Yorke has the following anecdote respecting this union. " Queen 
Catherine being a French woman born the relict of Henry V. knew 



MISCELLANEOUS. 309 

no difference between the English and the Welsh nations, until her se- 
cond marriage being published, Owen Tewdwr's kindred and country- 
men were objected to, to disgrace him as most vile and barbarous, 
which made her desire to see some of his kinsmen. Whereupon Owen 
brought to her presence John ap Meredith and Howel ap Llewelyn 
his near cousins, and men of goodly stature and personage, but wholly 
destitute of bringing up and nurture ; for when the queen had spoken 
to them in different languages, and they were not able to answer her, 
she said they were the goodliest dumb creatures that ever she saw," 



Note 5. Page 256. 

Britain's gems and brightest grace. 

The issue, from this odd adventure, and consequent marriage, was 
a son, named Edmund de Hadham, Avho was created Earl of Richmond, 
by his half brother Henry VI. with this peculiar privilege, that he 
should take place in parliament next to the dukes. Edmund married 
Margaret, only daughter of John, the first duke of Somerset, and had 
issue Henry VII. Edmund had a brother, Jasper of Hatfield, created 
earl of Pembroke, who had precedence of all earls ; he was afterwards, 
on the failure of Lancastrians, divested of the title, which was bestowed 
on his Yorkist opponent, who took, at the request of Edward IV. the 
surname of Herbert. 

Owen Tudor was taken prisoner, fighting against Edward IV. at 
the battle of Mortimer's cross, and beheaded. He was buried at St. 
David's, in the cathedral church of St. David's, " beyond the skreen 
separating the choir from the altar, and exactly opposite the entrance 
to it, is an altar tomb of Owen Tudor's son, Edmund, earl of Rich- 
mond. He was first buried in the Grey Friars, Carmarthen, and at the 
dissolution of that house his remains were removed, and the monument 
brought hither, the brasses fell a prey to the civil wars. The epitaph 
was copied and preserved by Sir Thomas Cotton." 

Fenton^s Pembrokeshire. 

From a Commission sent into Wales by Henry VII. to investigate 
his descent, Owen Tudor's genealogy will evince he was neither vilely 
nor barbarously descended, but from the princes of the country to a 
very remote era ; as the commission was entrusted to persons deeply 
versed in heraldic lore, and executed with that fidelity and accuracy 
which the subject demanded ; it had the effect of silencing the tongue 
of calumny, which, sharpened by the long prejudice of the English 
against the Welsh, had been very active in aspersing the king's de- 
scent ; although, independent of his ancient nobility, his marriage 
with Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of Edward TV. heiress of the house 
of York, and being himself, maternally, heir of the house of Lancaster, 



310 NOTES TO THE MISCELLANEOUS. 

gave him a legitimate claim to the throne of England. " The Tudors, 
a considerable time before the extinction of their race, assumed the 
name of Owen." Pennant. 

Note 6. Page 263. 

Mercy never dwelt with thee. 

Of Herbert, earl of Pembroke's devastations in North Wales, Sir 
John Wynne, of Gwydir, has this paragraph: " Earl Herbert's deso- 
lation consumed the whole borough of Llanrwst, and all the vale of 
Conway, to cold coals, (cinders) whereof the print is yet extant; the 
very ruins of many habitations carrying yet the colour of fire." 

History of the Gwydir family. 

Note 7. Page 266. 

Sir Richard dread, our mighty foe. 

He (Sir Richard Herbert) was a man of uncommon stature and 
courage ; in the battle of Danesmoor, he displayed such striking in- 
stances of prowess and force, as can scarcely be equalled in the annals 
of chivalry. With his pole-axe he passed and returned twice through 
the enemy's army, and killed with his own hand 140 men ; but when 
his party were on the point of obtaining the victory, the Welsh troops 
under his command, mistaking a small detachment of the army for the 
advanced guard of the Lancastrians, under the earl of Warwick, were 
struck with a panic, and fled on all sides. Much intercession was 
made to save his life, but ineffectually. He suffered death with a 
spirit and resolution worthy of his character and fame. Thus fell Sir 
Herbert ! the intrepid soldier and flower of chivalry. Sir Richard's 
ashes repose beneath an alabaster monument in Abergavenny church. 

Picture of Monmouthshire. 



Note 8. Page 267. 

The cruel bloody Herberts yield. 

Camden says "the earl of Pembroke, and his cousin, Sir Richard 
Herbert, of Coldbrook, were taken prisoners, and barbarously be- 
headed ;" but Mr. Yorke terms this affair " a retaliation of similar 
cruelties," and instances the execution of Thomas ap Robin, before 
mentioned. 

THE END. 



SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES. 



This little (*) Star, attached to certain names in the following List of Sub- 
scribers, is meant for the feeble luminary of the Author's gratitude to the 
individuals so distinguished, either for the friendly exertion of their influence 
and aid in obtaining Subscribers, or those generous civilities, and that liberal 
hospitality, alike enobling to their own natures as welcome to the stranger 
so benefited. They have the Author's most permanent recollection, with the 
best associated feelings such treatment never fails to create. 



Ann of Swansea , Glam. 

Arthur, Mr. David Neath, ib. 

Arthur, Mr. John ditto 
Attwood, Mr. ditto 

Awbrey, Mr. William Aberdare Iron 
Works, ib. 

Abernethie, Mr. Dowlais Iron Works 
Allen, Mr. W. Moss Lampeter, Card. 
Amlot, Mr. William Cardigan 
Allen, Mr. J. Haverfordwest, Pern. 
Ayleway, esq. W. ditto 
Adams, Miss Corey Milford, ib. 

Allen, Mr. A. Narberth, ib. 

Adams, Mr. G. Carmarthen 
Awbery, Mr. S. ditto 
Ayres, Mr. ditto 

Buccleugh, Her Grace the Duchess 
of, Richmond, (3 copies) Surrey 

Baker, Mr. C. Theatre Royal, Covent 
Garden, London 

Bonsall, esq. G. Glanrheidol, Card. 

Bonsall, Dr. Aberystwyth, ih. 

Brigstocke, Mrs. Emlyn Cottage, ib. 

Brigstocke, esq.W.O. Gellidywyll, ib. 

Brigstocke, Colonel Blaenpant, ib. 
(3 copies) 

Bowen, Rev. Thomas Troedyraur, ib. 

Bowen, Major Cardigan 

Brown, esq. P. ditto 

Bevan, Mr. J, B. ditto 

Bowen, esq. James Newport, Pern. 

Bowen, Mr. John ditto 

Burrell, esq. Andrew Haverfordwest 

Bulmer, Rev. Mr. ditto 

Bevan, Mr. James ditto 

Barzey, Mr. Thomas Fishguard, ib. 

2 



Byers, esq. H. Milford, Pern. 

Batrice, Major ditto 
Bather, Mr. T. ditto 
Bunker, Captain Bunker's Hill, ib. 
Bowen, Mr. Thomas Solva, ib. 

Bevan, Mr. Edward St. David's, ib. 
Bowen, Miss Narberth, ib. 

Beynon, Rev. Archdeacon Llandilo, 

Carni. 
Bowen, Rev. Mr. Kidwelly, ib. 

Broom, Mr. Neville Llanelly, ib. 

Bowen, Mr. David Carmarthen 
Bowen, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Bowen, Mr. Walter ditto 
Brown, esq. F. L. ditto 
Byers, Rev. J. B. ditto 
Bevan, Mr. T. Morristown, Glam. 
Baring, Mrs. Sketty Hall, (2copies) ib. 
Bevan, Captain John Swansea, ib. 
Barree, Mr. ditto 

Beddow, Miss ditto 

Bowen, Rev. Mr. ditto 

Bowen, Mrs. Sarah Merthyr, ib. 

Burnell, Mr. ditto 

Bedlington, Mrs. Dowlais Iron Works 
Bamfield, esq. T. Myrtle Hall, Glou. 
Brychan, Mr. Tredegar, Monm. 

Bevan, esq. W. Beaufort Iron Works 
Buddcn, Mr. Garndyrus Iron Works 
Bold, esq. Hugh Brecon 
Bold, esq. Thomas ditto 

Cardigan, Right Hon. the Countess 
of, Portman- square, London, (6 
copies) 
Cooke, Mr. J. P. Poultry, London 
Crossilehl, esq. A, M. Bras. Coll. Ox 



12 



SUBSCRIBERS NAMES, 



Crornptcn, Rev. Mr. Aberystwyth, 
Cardigan. 
Cranston, Mr. ditto 

Glaridge, Mr. R. Giocester Hall, ih. 
Canto 11, esq. William Haverfordwest, 

Pern. 
Crunn, Mrs. ditto 

Clement, esq. John Poiniz Castle, ih. 
Cross, jun. Mr. C. Milford, ih. 

Clarke, Captain R. N. Carmarthen 
Charles, Mr. John ditto 

Clarke, esq. Joseph Swansea, Glam. 
Clarke, Mr. W. ditto 

Cuthbertson, Mr. Neath, ih. 

Coffin, Mr. Merthyr, ih. 

Cox, Mr. James ditto 
Chick, Mr. John ditto 
Croft, Mr. Dowlais Iron Works, ih. 
Churchill, Mr. Abergavenny, Monm. 
Churchey, esq. Walter Brecon 
Church, esq. Samuel ditto 
Cross, Mr. William Bristol (2 copies) 

Davies, Rev. D. Castle Howel, Card. 

Davies, Rev J. Llwynrhydowen, ih. 

Davies, Mr. W T . Penybaily, ih. 

Davies, esq. E. Trevorgan, - ih. 

Davies, esq. jun. J. B. Maesycrngiati 
(2 copies) ih. 

Davies, Mr. Joshua Lampeter, ih. 

Davies, esq. Belme Seymour High- 
mead, ih. 

Davies, esq. J. Newcastle Emlyo, ih. 

Davies, M.A. Rev. J. Nantgwylaiv-5. 

Davies, Mr. W. Ffrwd ih. 

Davies, Colonel L. Aberystwyth, ih. 

Davies. Mr. A. P. ditto 

Davies, Mr. Richard ditto 

Davies, Mr. William ditto 

* Davies, Mr. Thomas Cardigan 
Davies, esq. D. ditto (2 copies) 
Davies, Mr. John ditto 
Davies, Mr. Peter Fishguard, Pern. 
Davies, Mrs. Mary Newport, ih. 
Davies, esq. John ditto 
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Davies, Mr. George ditto 

Bavies, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Drew, esq. John Milford, ih. 

Dimock, Mr. William ditto 

Davies, Mr. T. Brynyceirch, Carm. 

Davies, Mr. Miibank, ih. 

* Dale, esq. E- B. Llanelly, ih. 
Davies, Mr. D. A. ditto 
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Davies, Mr. William ditto 
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Davies, Mr. Johsi Carmarthen 

Davies, Mr. J. S. ditto 

Dodd, Mr. Richard ditto 

Davies, Mr. William Swansea, Glaim 

Davies, Rev. Mr. ditto 

Davies, Mr. William ditto (Pottery) 

Dawe, Mr. S. ditto 

Davies, Mr. William Neath, ih. 

Davies, Mr. John ditto 

Davies, Miss Court, Merthyr, ih. 

Davies, Mr. David ditto 

Davies, Mr. Thomas dito 

Davies, Mr. David ditto 

Davies, esq. David ditto 

Dyke, Mrs. Maria ditto 

* Davies, esq. D. Cyfartha Works, ih. 
Davies, Mr. W. Hirwain Works, ih. 
Davies, Mr. David ditto 
Davies, Mr. J. H. Dowlais Works, ih. 
Davies, Miss Abergavenny, Monm. 
Davies, Mr. William ditto 
Davies, esq. T. ditto - 
Davies, Mr. H. R. J. Tredegar, ' ih. 
Davies, Mr. Romney Works, ih. 
Davies, Mr. David Rhayader, Radn. 
Davies, esq. J. Moor Court, Kington 
Downes, Mr. J. Devynock, Brec. 
Davies, Rev. J. Builith, ib 
Davies, Rev. Archdeacon Brecon 
Dallas, Colonel Lemingston, Montg. 
Davies, esq. J. M. Wadham College, 

Oxford (3 copies) 
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* Downes, Mr . G. Thames-street, Lon- 

don 
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Edleston, Miss Aberystwyth, Card. 
Edwards, Mr. Robert ditto 
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Evans, Mr. Edward ditto 
Evans, Mr. Jenkin ditto 
Evans, B. D. Rev. R. Llanbadarn- 
fawr, v ib. 

Ellis, M. John Wenallt, ib. 

Edwards, Mr. LI. Llecbrhyd, ib. 

Evans, Captain Cardigan 
Edwards, Rev. J. M. Towyn, Merion. 
Enoch, Rev. G. Llanelwitb, Radn. 
Evans, Rev. D. L. Nantmel, ib. 

Evans, esq. M. J. Llwynybaried, ib. 
Evans, Rev. James Cwmtoydwr, ib. 

* Evans, Mr. Richard Rhayader, ib. 

* Evans, Lieut. R. N. Fishguard, Pew. 
Evans, Rev. D. Jordanstone, ib. 
Evans, Captain D. Newport, 



! Evans, Mr. T. Haverfordwest, 



I Evans, Mr. J, St. Davids, 



ib. 

ib. 



SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 



Edwardes, Captain Rhydygors,Carm. 
Evans, Rev. Mr. Pembrey, ib. 

Evans, Mr. J. M. Llandilo-vawr, ib. 
Evans, Mr. David ditto 

Evans, Mr. Hugh ditto 

Edwards, Miss Carmarthen 
Evans, esq. Evan ditto 
Evans, Mr. John ditto (Cross) 
Evans, Mr. John ditto(JournalOffice 
Evans, Mr. ditto (Six Bells) 

Evans, Mr. S. ditto 
Evans, Mr. ditto (Square) 

Edwards, esq. M. D. Swansea, Glam. 
Edwards, Mr. Lewis ditto 
Evans, Mr. Ezekiel ditto 
Evans. Mr. Edward ditto 
Ellas, Mr. W. Neath, ib. 

Evans, Rev. S. Merthyr, ib. 

Evans, Mr. David ditto 
Edwards, Miss ditto 
Edwards, Miss Elizabeth Dowlais, ib. 
*Edmunds, Mr. E. Dowlais Works 
Evans, Mr. Rees Bevan Plymouth 
Works ib. 

* Evans, Mr.T. Tredegar Works, Mon. 
Evans, esq. Seth Abergavenny, ib. 
Evans, Rev. John Brecon 

Evans, Mr. John (Utto 
Evans, Mr. Watkin Builih, Brec. 

Evans, Mr. Howel ditto 
Edwards, Mr. Manchester 

Fitzgeorge, Miss Bay swater, (3 copies 
Middlesex 
Fyffe, esq. E. London 
Francis, Mr. J. Haverfordwest, Pern. 
*Fagg, Mr. Swansea, Glam. 

Francis, Mr. J. ditto 
Forrest, esq. C. Hirwain Works, ib. 
Forrest, Mr. G. Cyfartha Works, ib. 
Fothergill, esq. R. Aberdare Works 
Frost, Mrs. Abergavenny, Monm. 

Gwydte, Right Hon. Lady Picca- 
dilly, London (3 copies) 

Gwynne, Mrs. Thomas Jones Tyglyn, 
(3 copies) Card. 

Glen, esq. J. P, Aberystwyth ib. 

Gillard, Mr. W. ditto 

Gwynne, esq. A.T. J. Monachty, ib. 

Griffith, Rev. T, Cribyn, ib. 

Griffith, esq. J. Llwyndyris, ib. 

Gilbertson, esq. W. C. Cefngwyu, ib. 

Gibbs, Mr. John Cardigan 

* George, esq. T. ditto 

George, Rev. H. Brynberring, Pern. 
Griffiths, Captain John Fishguard, ib. 
George, esq. Evan Plas Crunn, ib. 
George, esq. John Narberth, ib. 

Grey, Captain Milford, ib, 



Gwyther, Mr. G. Milford, Pern, 

Green, Miss A. Haverfordwest, ib. 
Griffith, Mr. James ditto 
Griffiths, Mr. John ditto 
Gibbs, Mr. William ditto 
Gwynne, Capt.iin Rhydygors, Carm. 
Griffiths, Rev. J. Clydey, ib. 

Goode, Mr. Carmarthen 
Gibbon, Mr. William ditto 
Griffiths, Mr. D. M. ditto 
Griffiths, Mr. John ditto 
Griffiths, Mr. ditto 

Griffiths, Rev. Mr. Mount Pleasant, 

Glam. 
Griffiths, esq. James Hill House, ib. 
Gibbon, esa.'M. D. J. Swansea, ib. 
* Griffiths, Mr. H. ditto 

Grant, esq. John H. Gnoll, ib. 

Granger, Mr. John Neath ib. 

Gardner, Mr. San key ditto 
Gregory, Mr. E. Plymouth Works,z&. 
Guest, esq. Josiah J. Dowlais House 
Gabb, Rev. G, Llanwy north, Monm. 
Green, Mr. George Abergavenny, ib. 
Griffith, Mr. William ditto 
Grieve, Mr. William Higbmead, ib. 
Griffith, Rev. Charles Preb. Brecon 

Howell, esq. Thomas Glasj. int, Card. 
Hughes, esq. John Alltlwyd, ib. 

Herbert, esq. Morgan Rhiwbren, ib. 
Herbert, Mr. John ditto 

Hughes, Rev. J. Lampeter, ib. 

Hughes, esq. John Aberystwyth, ib. 
Hughes, esq. Horatio ditto 
Hughes, esq. John ditto 

Harries, Rev. W. Llanstinan, Pern. 
Havard, Mr. David Newport, ib. 

Harris, Mr. John Fishguard, ib. 

Harries, Captain John ditto 
Harries, esq. Joseph Llanunwas, ib. 
Harris, Mr. Penyrhiw, ib. 

Harris, Mr. W. Haverfordwest, ib. 
Harris, esq. William dilto 
Hughes, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Harris, Mr. Walter W. Milford, ib. 
Harris, Mr. Isaac ditto 

Howell, Mr. John Solva, ib. 

Harries, Mr. John Narberth, ib. 

Harries, Mr. George ditto 
Howell, Mr. Evan ditto 
Hughes, Colonel Tregib, Carm. 

Harries, Mr. Llandilo, ib. 

Harris, Mr. Jonathan Carmarthen 

(6 copies) 
Howell, esq. H. P. ditto 

Hughes, Mr. H. ditto 

Hughes, esq. John ditto 

Hughes, Mr. William ditto 
Howell, Mr. David ditto 



14 



SUBSCIUUEIIS NAMES. 



Hartman, Capt. Bryn Cottage, Glam. 

Hewson, Rev. W. Swansea, ib. 

Harrnsworth, Mr. S. S. ditto 

Howell, esq. M. D. Edward, ditto 

Harris, Rev. Mr. ditto (Seren Gomer) 

Huxham, Mr. George ditto 

Harris, Mr. John ditto 

Hughes, Major ditto 

Haynes, esq. William Neath, ib. 

Hybert, Mr. ditto 

Hopkins, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Hill, esq. A. Plymouth Works, ib. 

Hopkins, esq. William Lewis Aber- 
anell, Brecon 

Hopkins, Mrs. ditto 

Hall, Mr. James ditto 

Harris, Rev. John ditto 

Harries, Mr. Thomas Builth, ib. 

* Harvey, Mr. James Tracey Aber- 
gavenny, Monm. 

Hughes, esq. Thomas ditto 

Hopkins, Mrs. Penypound House, ib. 

Hicks, Mr. William Garndyrus Iron 
Works, ib. 

Harford, esq. Richard Summer Ebbw 
Vale Iron Works ib. 

Harford, esq. Charles Lloyd ditto 

Harford, esq. Summer Sirhowey Iron 
Works ib. 

Harris, Mr. David Abergavenny, ib. 

Hunter, Mrs. St. Paul's, London 

Hastings, Mr. Cobourg Theatre, ditto 

Haines, Mr. John ditto 

Houseman, Mr. John 26, Portland 
Street, ditto 

Howard, Mr. Manchester 

Jones, Mr. Lewis Aberystwyth, C«rd. 

3 Copies 
Jones, esq. John ditto 

James, Mr. Richard ditto 
James, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Jones, Mr. John ditto 

Jenkins, Mr. ditto 

Jones, Mr. John ditto 

Jones, Mr. Robert ditto 

Jones, Mr. Rice ditto 

James, Mr. D. W. Trepusk ib. 

Jenkins, Rev. John Llanilar ib. 

Jones, esq. John Derry Ormond ib. 
Jones, Mr. T. Newcastle Emlyn ib. 
Jones, Mr. W. Cardigan 
Jenkins, Mr. Morgan ditto 
Jones, esq. Daniel ditto 
Jones, Mr. James ditto 

James, Mr. J. Haverfordwest, Pern. 
Jones, esq. M. D. Walter David ditto 
Johns, Mr. William ditto 

Jones, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Jones, Mr. Thomas Milford ib. 



Jones, Mr. Evan St. David's Pern. 

Jenkins, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Johns, Mr. Thomas Narberth ib. 

Jenkins, Mr. David ditto 

Jones, esq. Howel ditto 

Jones, Miss Maeslan Carm. 

Jones, Mr. Llangunnor ib. 

Jones, Mr. David Tylhvyd ib. 

Jenkins, esq. John Carmarthen 

Jones, Mr. W. E. ditto 

Johns, Mr. M. W. ditto 

Jones, esq. Thomas ditto 

James, Mr. R. ditto 

James, Mr. Henry ditto 

Jones, Mr. Owen ditto 

Jones, Rev. David ditto 

Jones, Mr. John ditto 

Jones, esq, William ditto 

Jones, Mr. William Havard ditto 

James, Rev. Mr. Penmaen Glam. 

Jones, W. D. Swansea ib. 

Jennings, Mr. J. J. ditto 

James, esq. John ditto 

Jenkins, esq. John ditto 

Jones, esq. William ditto 

Jenkins, Mr. John ditto 

Jenkins, Mr. D. ditto 

Jones, esq. William ditto 

Jenkins, esq. Griffith ditto 

Jones, Mr. William Havod Copper 
Works, Swansea 

Jenkins, Mr. E. White Rock Works, 
Swansea 

Jeffreys, Mr. Jabes Neath ib. 

Jones, Mr. John ditto 

Jenkins, Mr. David ditto 

Jenkins, Rev. Owen ditto 

Jones, esq. Nathaniel ditto 

Jenkins, Mr. DavidJMerthyr ib. 

James, esq. Job ditto 

Jones, Mr. William ditto 
Jones, Mr. H. ditto 

Jones, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Jones, Mr. David ditto 

Jones, Mr. David ditto 

Jones, Rev. Mr. ditto 

Jones, Miss ditto 

Jones, Mr. D. P: Cyfartha Works,^. 
Jones, Mr. William Hirwain, do. ib. 
Jenkins, Mr. W. Aberdare, do. ib. 
James, Mr. W. Clydach ditto Brec. 
Jones, Mr. William Llanvaise ib. 
Jones, Mr. Llwynderw ib. 

Jeffries, Mr. David Trecastle ib. 

Jones, esq. T. White House, Builth 
James, Mr. Griffith ditto 

Jeffreys, Mr. James ditto 

* Jones, esq. Frederick Brecon, (2 
Copies) 
I Jones, esq. John ditto 



SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 



315 



Jones, Miss S. Brecon 

Jenkins, Mr. David ditto 

Jones, esq. T. H. Waterloo Cottage, 

2 Copies Monm. 

Jones, Mrs. Abergavenny ib. 

Jones, Mr. Morris ditto 
Joshua, Mr. R. dtito 

Jones, Mr. R. Prosser ditto 
Jones, esq. Hugh ditto 

Jones, esq. Stephen ditto 
Jones, Mr. James ditto 

Jones, esq. J. Llanarth Court Monm. 
Jones, esq. W. ditto 
Jones, esq. P. ditto 
James, esq. S. Glanclywedog Radn. 
Jones, Mr. D. F. 38 Gutter Lane, 

Cheapside, London 
Jones, esq. Thomas 90 Long Acre do. 
Jones, Mr. Watkin,Streatham, Surrey 

Kent, Mr. T. J. St. Paul's, London 
Kinsey, General Abergavenny Monm. 
Kinsey, Mrs. ditto 

Kings, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Kosslaid, Mr. George ditto 
Kirkhouse, Mr. T. Merthyr Glam. 
Kirkhouse,Mr.H. CyfarthaWorks ib. 
Kirkhouse, Mr. G. Dowlais do. 

Lisburne, The Right Hon. the Earl 
of, Crosswood, (3 copies) Card. 
Lewis, esq. W. Llaniron (3 copies) ib. 
Lloyd,ColonelJ.P.Mabus(3copies)^. 
Lloyd, H. J. esq. ditto ib. 

Lloyd, Miss Bronwydd House ib. 
Lloyd, esq. James ditto 
Lloyd, Captain Dolhaidd ib. 

Lumsden, esq. J. S. StradmoreHill ib. 
Lucas, esq. D. Cardigan 
Lloyd, Rev. John ditto 
Lloyd, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Lewis, Mr. Caleb ditto 
* Lloyd, Miss Mary Newport Pern. 
Lloyd, Mrs. Mary Ann Fishguard ib. 
Lloyd, Mr. David ditto 

Lloyd, Mr. Thomas Haverfordwest ib. 
Lewis, esq. Owen ditto 
Leach, esq. Henry Milford ib. 

Lloyd, Mr. Joseph ditto 
Lewis, Mr. T. J. ditto 
Lewis, Mr. John Narberth ib. 

Lloyd, Mrs. Court Henry Carm. 

Llewelyn, esq, Lloyd Carmarthen 
Lewis, esq. David ditto 

Lazarus, Mrs. ditto 

Lazarus, Mr. Benjamin ditto 
Long, esq. John Swansea Glam. 

Lawrence, Mr. W. ditto 
Lister, Mr. ditto 

Langden, esq. John, R. N. ditto 



LIewelyn,Mrs.WillowsSwanseaGZam. 
Legge, esq. William Neath ib. 

Lewis, Mr. Rice Merthyr ib. 

Lewis,; esq. M. P. Wyndham ib. 

Lewis,Mr.Y.V. Abergavenny Monm. 
Llewelyn, et>q. M. Romney Works ib. 
Lyndon, Mr. C. Tredegar Iron W. ib. 
Lewis, Mr. James Sirhowey do. ib. 
Lewis, Mr. Henry ditto 

Lewis, Mr. D. Clydachlron W. Brec. 
Lawrence, esq. Thomas Brecon 
Lloyd, Mr. Daniel, ditto (2 copies) 
Llewelyn, Rev. Jeffery Llewel ib. 
Lewis, Mr. Owen Rhaj'ader Radn. 
Limbird, Mr. M. 355 Strand, London 
Leatham, Mr.Gwilym Davies,Goodge- 
Street, ditto 

Millingchamp, D. D. Rev. B. Llan- 
goedmore place (2 copies) Card. 
Morgan, Mr. Joel Aberystwyth 
Morgan, Mr. John ditto 
Magee, esq. J. F.M. Cwmedwig ib. 
Matthias, esq. J. Newcastle Emlyn ib. 
Marsden,Mr.George,LlanfairMines ib 
Mitchell, Mr. William Cardigan 
Matthias, esq. Stephen ditto 
Matthias, Mr. John ditto 
Morris, esq. Thomas Trevigan Pern. 
Matthias, SirHenry Haverfordwest ib. 
Morgan, esq. M. D. J. LI. ditto 
Matthias, Mr. Richard ditto 

Matthias, Mr. Joseph ditto 

*Makeig, Mr. ditto 

Matthias, Captain Milford ib. 

Morgan, Lieut. R. N. ditto 

Marshall, Mr. ditto 

Milne, Mr. James ditto 

Morse, Miss Narberth ib. 

M' Donald, Mr. W. P. Ystradwrallt 
Carm. 
* Morgans, Miss Eugenia Carmarthen 

(2 copies) 
Morgan, esq. Charles ditto (2 copies) 
Mister, esq. Edward ditto 
Morris, esq. T. ditto 

Morley, jun. Mr. David ditto 
Morris, Mr. Morris ditto 
Moss, Mr. William ditto 
Morgan, Mr. John ditto 
Morgans, esq. William ditto 
Morris, Mr. B. ditto 

Miller, Mr. ditto 

Morris, Mr. Jonathan ditto 
Moyers, Captain, Swansea Glam. 
Murray &Rees, Messrs. ditto 
Montague, Mrs. Mount Pleasant ib. 
Morgan, esq. E. P. Neath ib. 

Marriot, Mr. William ditto 
Morgan, esq. T. ditto 



316 



SUBSCRIBERS NAME'S. 



Marks, Mr. Mark Neath Glam. 

Meyrick, esq. D. W. Merthyr ib. 
Morgan, esq. Walter ditto 
Morgan, Mr. Israel ditto 
Morgan, Mr. J.H. Abergavenny Mon. 
Malthus, esq. S. ditto 

Morgan, Mr. J. Clydach Iron W. Brec. 
Morgan, Mr. Brecon 
Mayberry, esq. Thomas ditto 
Meredith, esq. Thomas ditto 
Morgan, Mrs. Builth ib. 

Morgan, Mr. Hugh ditto 
Madocks, esq. M. P. Tregunter 

(3 copies) ib. 

Meyers, Mr. Playhouse Yard, London 
Mortimer, Mr. Frederick, Theatre 

Royal, Brighton 
Macready, Mr. Theatre Royal, Bristol 
Makenzie, esq. W. Forbes Edinburgh 

Nugent, esq. T. G. Cardigan (3 copies) 

Newo, Mr. Haverfordwest Pern. 

Nash, D. D. Rev. J. T. ditto 

Nuitall, Captain Milford ib. 

Nash, Mr. John Golden Grove ib. 

Nott, Major Carmarthen 

Needham, Mr. J. Swansea Glam. 

Nicol, Mr. ditto 

Noble, Mr. James, Dowlais ib. 

Nicholas, Mr. R. Brecon 

North, Mr. George ditto 

Owen,Mr. William Aberystwyth Card. 
Owen, esq. John Newport Pern. 

*Owen, Mr. W. Haverfordwest ib. 
Owen, Mr. William ditto 
Owen, Mr. Nathaniel Narberth ib. 
Oakley, Mr. John Solva ib. 

Owen, Mr. James Carmarthen 
Owen, Mr. John ditto 

Oakley, Mr. William Builth Brec. 

*Prichard, Mr. Richard, Regent's 
Circus, London (6 copies) 

Parry , esq. John 8 Newman Street ib. 

Price, Mr. J. 1 Wood Street, Cheap- 
side ib. 

Pierce, jun. esq. William ib. 

Pryse,Mrs.Gogerddan(3eopies) Card. 

Powell, esq. M. P. William Edward 
Nanteos, (3 copies) ib. 

Parrv, Captain William H. Webley, 
R. N. Noyadd Trefavvr ib. 

Parry, Mr. Rowland Aberystwyth 

Parry, Mr. James ditto 

Price, Mr. Cardigan 

Pugh, Rev. John Castle Bigh Pern. 

Potter, sen. Mr. J.T. Haverforwest ib. 

Potter, Mr. Joseph ditto 

Pugh, Mr. ditto 



Phillips, esq. N. Haverfordwest Pern. 
Phelps, Mr. John ditto 

Phillips, esq. William ditto 
* Prichard, Mr. Edward Milford ib. 
Pringle, Captain ditto 

Phillips, Mr. William ditto 
Potter, Miss ditto 

Prothero, Mrs. ditto 

Probert, Captain David ditto 
Parry, esq. George ditto 
Parcell, Mr. William ditto 
Paseall, Mr. Henry ditto 
Pritchard, Mr. John, St. David's ib. 
Prbpert, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Propert, Mr. John ditto 

Price, esq. Edward Narberth ib. 

Philipps, esq. George ditto 
Prior, esq. John ditto 

Philipps, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Pugh, Mr. Dolgwin Carm. 

Phillips, Mr. William Carmarthen 
Phillips, Mr. Henry ditto 
Price, Mr. John ditto 

Philipps, Mr. P. R. ditto 
Price, esq. J. J. Swansea Glam. 

Phillips, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Popkin, esq. John ditto 

Pierce, esq. George Merthyr ib. 

Price, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Perkins, esq. William ditto 

Petherick, Mr. Penydarren Works ib. 

Powell, esq. William Cadoxton ib. 

Place, esq. Thomas near Court Her- 
bert ib. 

Player, esq. — Briton Ferry ib. 

* Powell, esq. T. W. Neath ib. 

Powell, esq. J. H. Clyrow Court, 
(3 copies) Brec. 

Powell, Rev. T. J. Peterstone Court 
(3 copies) ib. 

Price, Rev. Mr. Crickhowell ib. 

Powell, esq. John Maespoeth ib. 

Powell, esq. David Walter Pentre' 
Veiin Lodge ib. 

Price, Mr. David Park ib. 

Prosser, Mr. Thomas, Brecon 

Prosser, Mrs. ditto 

Price, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Powell, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Powell, esq. John ditto 

Price, Major ditto 

Powell, Esq. Micldleton 

Pritchard, Mr. Edward Thomas ditto 
(2 copies) 

Price, esq. Thomas Builth ib. 

Price, esq. E. B. ditto 

Price, Mr. Morgan ditto 

Prichard, Miss ditto 

Prichard, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Prichard, Mr. John ditto 



SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 



317 



Powell, esq. H. P. Bullth Brec. 

Price, Mr. William Pendru ih. 

Pierce, esq. John Forge ih. 

Phillips, Mrs. Abergavenny Monm. 
Price, Mr. Waiter ditto 
Peene, Mr. James ditto 
* Powell, Mr. W. T. Tredegar ih. 
Pryce, Mr. John ditto 

Price, Rev. B. ditto 

Price, Mr. John Sirhowey Iron W. ih. 
Peele, esq. Robert, Cwmelan JRadn. 
Phillips, esq. M. A. Richard Ballard 

Digbeth House, Birmingham 
Perkins, Miss ditto 

Pierce, esq. William Worcester 
Pierce, esq. J. T. Cape Coast Castle, 

Africa 
Parry, Mr. John Bristol 
Price, Mr. ditto 

Rathili,esq. Robert Aberystwyth Card 
Rowland, Mr. W. ditto 
Roberts, Mr. John ditto 
Rogers, Rev. D. Penygraig ih. 

Rees, Mr. David Cardigan 
Rogers, esq. Edward Newport Pern. 
Richards, Miss E. Fishguard ib. 

Rees, esq. Henry Haverfordwest ih. 
Rees, Lieut. R. N. ditto 
Richards, Captain W. ditto 
Reynett, Captain Milford ih. 

Richards, Miss E. ditto 
Rees, Mrs. ditto 

Roberts, Mr. William ditto 
Roach, Rev. Dr. Tenby ib. 

Rees, Mr. David Stainton ib. 

* Richardson, Rev. P. D. St. Dogmell's 
Richardson, Rev. William St. David's 
Rees, Rev. Francis ditto 

Roberts, Rev. William ditto 

Richards, Lieut. John Solva ib. 

Rees, Mr. Thomas Carmarthen 
Richards, Mr. Henry ditto 
Rees, Mr. John ditto (2 copies) 

Rushforth, Mrs. ditto 

Rees, esq. David ditto 

Rees, Miss ditto 

Reynolds, Mr. ditto 

Rogers, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Rees, Mrs. Evan ditto 

Rees, Miss A. ditto 

Richards, Mr. David Swansea Glam. 
Rowlands, esq. David ditto 
Robinson, Mr. ditto 

Rees, Mrs. ditto 

Rowland, esq. William Neath ib. 

Rees, Mr. John ditto 

Redwood, Mr. ditto 

Richardson, Mr. Merthyr ih. 

Rees, Rev. Dr. ditto 



Richards, esq. E. L. Merthyr Glam. 
Russell, esq. George ditto 
Rhys, Mr. Jen kin Aberdare Works ib. 
Ridley, Mr. Henry, Dowlais ih. 

Richardson, Mrs. Norwood, Surrey 
Richards, A.M. O.S F. Rev. Edward 

Abergavenny Monm. 

Rogers, Mr. James Garndyrus Iron 

Works ih. 

Rees, Mr. Lodwick, Tredeger ih. 
Rowlands, esq. Abraham Nantyglo 

Iron Works ih. 

Rowlands, Rev. William Brecon 
Richards, Mrs.' Builth Brec. 

Rice, Miss Rhayader Radn. 

St. David's, the Right Rev. the 
Lord Bishop of, Abergwily (3 
copies) Carm. 

Sullivan, Mr. John Dublin 

Smith, Mr. W. H. Watling St. London 

Santer, Mr. T. Tottenham St. ditto 

S Mr. J. Aberystwyth Card. 

* Saunders, Mr. Hugh Cardigan 

Symmons, Mrs. Henllys Pern. 

Symmons, Mr. Thomas, Buckett ib. 

Stephens, Mr. David Fishguard ib. 

Seaborn, Captain John ditto 

Symmons, Mr. John Haverfordwest ib. 

Scowcroft, esq. William ditto 

Symmons, esq. William ditto 

Smith, Mr. Henry ditto 

Smith, Mr. Tenby ib. 

Stephens, Mr. Philip Milford ih. 

Smith, esq. John, Narberth ih. 

Swan, esq. W. B. MarrextonHouse ib. 

*Stacey, esq. E. H. Carmarthen 

Stacey, Mr. J. J. ditto 

Spurrell, Mr. Richard ditto 

Sherlock, Mrs. Abergwily Carm. 

Stephens, esq. John Cwm ib. 

Stephens, jun. esq. Bertwn ih. 

Stroud, esq. William Llandilofawr ib. 

Socket, esq. H. Swansea Glam. 

Shadwell, Mr. T. C. 32 Essex Street, 
Strand, London 

Stephens, esq. James Merthyr ih. 

Steward, Mr. H. Plymouth Works ih. 

Sargeant, Mr. W.Abergavenny Monm. 

Steele, esq. William ditto 

Steele, esq. Thomas ditto 

Snead, esq. J. P. Brecon 

Stanton, Mr. Thomas Builth Brec. 

Throckmorton, Mrs. King Street, 

London 
Thackeray, Mr. Charles 120 Jermyn 

Street, St. James's, ditto 
Thomas, Re v. Thomas Aherporth Card. 
Thomas, Re v.GrifhthLlangoedrnorc^. 



318 



subscribers' names. 



Thomas, Rev. W. W. Cardigan 
Thomas, Mr.T.NewcastleEmlyn Card. 
* Thomas, Re v.J. Haverfordwest Pern. 
Thomas, Mr. Hugh ditto 

Thomas, Mr. William ditto 
Thomas, Mr. James ditto 

Thomas, Mr. John ditto 

Thomas, Mr. William ditto 
Tombs, Mr. Joseph ditto 

Thomas, Miss Eliza Milford ih. 

Thomas, Mrs. Catherine Narberth ih. 
Thomas, Mr. B. R. ditto 

Twining, Captain Cilrhiw ih. 

Thomas, Mr. William Blackmoor 
Hill ih. 

Tidbury, jun. Captain T. Milford ih. 
Thomas, esq. Geo. Carmarthen 
Tardrew, Mr. ditto 

Thomas, Miss ditto 

Thomas, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Thomas, Mr. William ditto 
Thomas, Mr. Rees ditto 

Thomas, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Tardrew, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Thomas, Mr. T. J. Chepstow Glam. 
Thomas, esq. T. E. Mount Pleasant ih. 
Thomas, Mr. Thomas Swansea ih. 
Terry, esq. William ditto 
Terry, Mr. Isaac Neath ih. 

Townsend, Mr. Edmund ditto 
Thomas, Mr. William ditto 
Thomas, Mr. Thomas ditto 
Thomas, esq. W. Court Merthyr ih. 
Teague, Mr. Dowlais ih. 

Thomas, Mr. W. Plymouth Works ih. 
Thomas, Mr. Edward ditto 
Taylor, Mr. Hirwain ih. 

Tudor, Mr. T. D. Abergavenny Monm. 
Thomas, esq.D. Wellfield House Radn. 

Vaughatv, Right Hon. Lord, Cross- 
wood (3 copies) Card. 

Vaughan , Hon . John (3 copies) ditto 

Vincent, General Aberystwyth (3 
copies) ih. 

Venables, Rev.G. Machynlleth Mont. 

Vaughan, Captain R. N. Carmarthen 

Vaughan, Mr. John Merihyr Glam. 

Vaughan, Mr. Sirhowey Works Monm. 

Vaughan, Mr. Brecon 

*Warde, Mrs. Catherine George, Lon- 
don (6 copies) 
Williams, Rev. W. Charbury, Oxon 
Williams, Mr. L. Thomas St. London 
Williams, Major Castle Hill Card. 
Windsor, Mr. Thomas Pentrev ih. 



Williams, Rev. J. Lampeter Card. 
Williams, Rev. John Llandvfriog ih. 
Williams, Mr.D. Newcastle Emlym-5. 
Walters, esq. J. Newcastle Emlyn ih. 
Walters, Miss Jane Perthgeraint ih. 
Williams, esq. LI. AlderbrookHall ih. 
Williams, esq. M. D. Rice Aberyst- 
ystwyth ib. 

Williams, esq. Richard ditto 
Williams, Miss Haverfordwest Pern. 
Wilkins, Mr. Walter ditto 
Warr, Rev. Daniel ditto 
Waldegrave, esq. C. Milford ib. 

Williams, Rev. T. St. David's ih. 
Williams, Mr. T. ditto 

* Williams, Mr. James Narberth ih. 
Williams, Mr. John ditto 
Williams, Mr. D. Morva bach Carm. 
Wood, Captain Abergwily ih. 
Wells, Mr. John Llanelly ih. 
Williams, Mr. F. Theatre, Carmarthen 
Williamsj Mr. T. ditto 

* Williams, esq. Hugh ditto 
Williams, Mr. J. ditto 
Williams, Rev. D. A. ditto 
Williams, Mr. Edward Denbigh 
Williams, Mr. Taliesin Merthyr Glam. 
Williams, Mr. Evan Thornhill ib. 
Williams, Mr. Roger Merthyr ib. 
Williams, Mr. William ditto 
Williams, Mrs. Anne ditto 
Watkins, Mr. John ditto 
Wayne, Mr. M. Cyfartha Works ib. 
Watkins, Rev. Watkin Hirwain ib. 
Watkins, Mr. John ditto 
Whitey, Mr. Thomas Aberdare Iron 

Works ib. 

Wilkinson, Mr. J. Hirwain ditto ib. 
Williams, Mr. Philip Beaufort Iron 

Works Monm. 

Williams, esq. B. D. Abergavenny ib. 
Williams, Mr. Lewis ditto 
Wyke, Miss ditto 

Westcott, Mr. ditto 

Williams, Mr. J. 74 Pall Mall, London 
Williams, esq. B. (Coroner) Brecon 
Williams, Mr. ditto 

Williams, Captain ditto 

Williams, M. W. di::o 

Williams, Mr. Thomas ditto 

Wynter, Mr. Hugh ditto 

Williams, esq. P. Penpont (3 copies) 

Brec. 
Williams, Mr. John Llanvaise ib. 
Woosman, Mr. Thomas Builth ih. 

Yeats, Miss Wortley House Glocest. 



19 



ADDITIONAL SUBSCRIBERS. 



* Anwyl, Esq, E. P. Brynadda Mer. 

Davies, Mr. Morgan, Nannau ib. 

Davies, esq. John Machynlleth Mont. 
Davies, esq. Hugh ditto 

Evans, Rev. Lewis Llanfihangel Card. 
Ellis, Mrs. Machynlleth Mont. 

Evans, Esq. Lewis Dolgellau Mer. 
Evans, Esq. F. P. J. Hendreforion ib. 

Foulkes.Mr. John Machynlleth Mont. 



Griffiths, Mrs. 
Griffiths, Mr. Thomas 



ditto 
ditto 



Hughes, Rev. Mr. ditto 

Hartley, Mrs. Llwyn, Dolgellau Mer. 

Jones, Esq. R. V. Penmaen ib 

* Jones, Esq. R. LI. Dolgellau (2 co- 

pies) ib. 

* Jones, Esq. Ellis ditto 
Jones, Mr. Richard ditio 

Jones, esq. Evan Machynlleth Mont. 
Jones, Mr. John ditto 

Jones, esq. Thomas ditto 
Jones, esq. Joseph ditto 
Jones,Mr.(Draper) Aberystwyth Card 
Jeffreys. Mrs. Glandyfi ib. 



Llo^d, esq. Hugh Machynlleth Mont. 
Lewis, esq. Thomas ditto 
Lewis, esq. John ditto 

Morgan, Mr. Evan Aberystwyth Card. 
Maggs, Mr. Paul, Aberystwyth ib. 

Owen, esq. David Dolgellau Mer. 
Owen, esq. Humphrey ditto 
Owen, Mrs. Glanaran ib. 

Owen, Mr. John, Towyn ib. 

Owen, esq. Hugh Machynlleth Mont. 

Pughe, Mr. John Eagles ditto 
Pearson, Mr. Edward Nannau Mer. 
Pugh, Esq. John Dolgellau ib. 

Price, Rev. C. Ty'nygraig Brec. 

Pritchard, esq. D. Dolygaer ib. 

Rees, Mr. Ellis Dolgellau Mer. 

Thomas, Rev. Hugh Penegoes Mont. 

Vaughan, Sir Robert Williams, Bart. 
M. P. Nannau (3 copies) Mer. 

Williams, Esq. John Dolgellau ib. 
Warrington, Mr. Aberystwyth Card. 

Yellowley, Mrs. Bryn y-gwin, near 
Dolgellau (2 copies) Mer. 



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Aberystwyth. 



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